but this time he stayed. He pressed the length of his arm along the curve of my spine and I kept myself perfectly still, pretending to be asleep.
I knew the second he thought I was awake, he’d move. And I didn’t want him to.
Even after what Karla had told me.
There was something different in the way he smelled tonight.
Like sweat and dirt and tears.
I wanted to look at him, to see if I would find the sight of him less appealing now I had learned his secret.
But I was frightened to. I didn’t want to lose what I felt for Yoss. It was good. It was pure. It was the only light in this dark, horrible world.
I was terrified that if I did feel differently, what that would say about me.
So I stayed on my side and let him take comfort in the barest of touches.
That night, he didn’t hum to go to sleep.
Instead he cried.
Present Day
“G ood morning, Mr. Frazier. How are you feeling today?” Dr. Howell asked, checking the monitors and making notes in Yoss’s chart.
That morning I was attending rounds with the doctor for each of my clients. Yoss was first on the list now that he was conscious. He had woken up that morning and stayed awake for the first time since being admitted. Cheyenne, the nurse on duty, said he had even eaten some breakfast.
I kept my back straight and my clipboard pressed to my chest. Yoss glanced in my direction, but there was otherwise no expression on his face.
“Like I got hit by a bus,” he muttered, trying to sit up in bed, wincing when he moved.
Dr. Howell moved to his side and helped him into an upright position. He readjusted the bed so that Yoss was no longer reclining. “I’m sure you do. You’ve been through quite an ordeal.” Dr. Howell looked back at me. “This is Imogen Conner, one of the hospital social workers on staff. She has been assigned your case.”
Yoss snorted, but didn’t respond. Dr. Howell pursed his lips and continued, “Imogen will be the one coordinating your care and services. She can help you find a place to stay. She will also liaise with the local police department in regards to what happened.”
“I’m not talking to the police,” Yoss said sharply.
Dr. Howell glanced at me. “Well, you can discuss all of that with Ms. Conner.” The older man cleared his throat. “I wanted to talk to you about your blood work that came back.” Dr. Howell looked down at the chart. “Tell me, Mr. Frazier, how have you been feeling? Before you came to the hospital?”
“Fine,” Yoss answered gruffly.
I wanted to roll my eyes. Yoss could always be stubborn. It seemed that was one thing that hadn’t changed.
“Have you been feeling nauseous? Overly tired? What about sudden weight loss?” Dr. Howell asked.
“I haven’t exactly been in a position to pay attention to that sort of thing. But I guess, yeah, I’ve been feeling sort of rundown. And I’ve lost some weight. I mean, it’s not like I weigh myself regularly,” Yoss said, scratching at a line of stitches on his arm.
“We’re going to need to run some more tests—” Dr. Howell began.
“Why do I need more tests? Just be straight with me. I don’t like unnecessary bullshit,” Yoss growled. His face was hard. I didn’t recognize him at all. If it weren’t for that unusual tattoo and his green eyes, I would have thought him someone else entirely.
“You have hepatitis B, Mr. Frazier.”
Yoss said nothing. It was impossible to tell what he thought of that news.
“The virus attacks the liver. So we will need to run some more tests to see how progressed the disease is. If left untreated for a long period of time, it can cause significant complications. It’s hard to know when you contracted the virus, so we need to test your liver function,” Dr. Howell explained with his patented sympathetic demeanor.
Yoss didn’t say anything for a long time.
“Hepatitis B,” he repeated finally.
Dr. Howell nodded. “Do you understand?” he asked kindly.
“I do. It means one of the
I knew the second he thought I was awake, he’d move. And I didn’t want him to.
Even after what Karla had told me.
There was something different in the way he smelled tonight.
Like sweat and dirt and tears.
I wanted to look at him, to see if I would find the sight of him less appealing now I had learned his secret.
But I was frightened to. I didn’t want to lose what I felt for Yoss. It was good. It was pure. It was the only light in this dark, horrible world.
I was terrified that if I did feel differently, what that would say about me.
So I stayed on my side and let him take comfort in the barest of touches.
That night, he didn’t hum to go to sleep.
Instead he cried.
Present Day
“G ood morning, Mr. Frazier. How are you feeling today?” Dr. Howell asked, checking the monitors and making notes in Yoss’s chart.
That morning I was attending rounds with the doctor for each of my clients. Yoss was first on the list now that he was conscious. He had woken up that morning and stayed awake for the first time since being admitted. Cheyenne, the nurse on duty, said he had even eaten some breakfast.
I kept my back straight and my clipboard pressed to my chest. Yoss glanced in my direction, but there was otherwise no expression on his face.
“Like I got hit by a bus,” he muttered, trying to sit up in bed, wincing when he moved.
Dr. Howell moved to his side and helped him into an upright position. He readjusted the bed so that Yoss was no longer reclining. “I’m sure you do. You’ve been through quite an ordeal.” Dr. Howell looked back at me. “This is Imogen Conner, one of the hospital social workers on staff. She has been assigned your case.”
Yoss snorted, but didn’t respond. Dr. Howell pursed his lips and continued, “Imogen will be the one coordinating your care and services. She can help you find a place to stay. She will also liaise with the local police department in regards to what happened.”
“I’m not talking to the police,” Yoss said sharply.
Dr. Howell glanced at me. “Well, you can discuss all of that with Ms. Conner.” The older man cleared his throat. “I wanted to talk to you about your blood work that came back.” Dr. Howell looked down at the chart. “Tell me, Mr. Frazier, how have you been feeling? Before you came to the hospital?”
“Fine,” Yoss answered gruffly.
I wanted to roll my eyes. Yoss could always be stubborn. It seemed that was one thing that hadn’t changed.
“Have you been feeling nauseous? Overly tired? What about sudden weight loss?” Dr. Howell asked.
“I haven’t exactly been in a position to pay attention to that sort of thing. But I guess, yeah, I’ve been feeling sort of rundown. And I’ve lost some weight. I mean, it’s not like I weigh myself regularly,” Yoss said, scratching at a line of stitches on his arm.
“We’re going to need to run some more tests—” Dr. Howell began.
“Why do I need more tests? Just be straight with me. I don’t like unnecessary bullshit,” Yoss growled. His face was hard. I didn’t recognize him at all. If it weren’t for that unusual tattoo and his green eyes, I would have thought him someone else entirely.
“You have hepatitis B, Mr. Frazier.”
Yoss said nothing. It was impossible to tell what he thought of that news.
“The virus attacks the liver. So we will need to run some more tests to see how progressed the disease is. If left untreated for a long period of time, it can cause significant complications. It’s hard to know when you contracted the virus, so we need to test your liver function,” Dr. Howell explained with his patented sympathetic demeanor.
Yoss didn’t say anything for a long time.
“Hepatitis B,” he repeated finally.
Dr. Howell nodded. “Do you understand?” he asked kindly.
“I do. It means one of the
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