C25 A little less certain

The hospital room was quiet except for the occasional sound of footsteps passing outside.

Alex sat propped against his pillows, looking considerably more comfortable than he had the previous day. The monitors beside his bed continued to display their steady readings, and the blanket lay loosely across his lap.

Joan returned from the small refreshment area carrying two cups of water.

She handed one to him before taking the chair beside his bed.

“You look comfortable,” she remarked.

Alex accepted the cup. “I’m trying to enjoy the service.”

“Which service? The one where you scared ten years off my life?”

“That one needs improvement.”

Joan stared at him.

He took a sip of water, pretending not to notice.

“You know,” she began, settling back into her chair, “most people apologize after putting their families through something like that.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You didn't even look at me when you said that.”

Alex turned to her. “I'm sorry.”

She narrowed her eyes.

“Better?”

“Not particularly.”

He smiled faintly, and she shook her head.

For a while, they talked about ordinary things. Joan told him about a lecture she had missed and complained about an assignment she had yet to finish. Alex listened, occasionally interrupting with a comment that made her regret bringing up the subject.

“You're not helping,” she told him.

“I haven't said anything.”

“Exactly. Your silence is somehow making this worse.”

“That's a remarkable talent.”

“I'm glad you recognize it.”

He laughed quietly.

The sound eased something in her chest, though it didn't completely settle her nerves. She had spent enough time around Alex to recognize when he was trying to make things seem less serious than they were.

Eventually, her expression softened.

“You really frightened me yesterday.”

Alex's smile faded.

“I know.”

“No, I don't think you do.” She looked down at the cup in her hands. “I've seen you have seizures before. I know what to do, and I know what the doctors have told us. But yesterday was different. For a moment, I didn't know what was going to happen.”

He said nothing.

“I hate that feeling,” she continued. “Not knowing whether you're going to be okay. And then, when you wake up, you act as if everyone else is being dramatic for worrying.”

“I don't think you're being dramatic.”

“You certainly behave like it.”

He lowered his eyes to the cup.

“Sometimes, I don't know what else to do,” he admitted.

Joan looked at him.

“About what?”

“Everything.” He paused, searching for the right words. “I don't like worrying people. And I don't like feeling as if every time something happens, everyone has to stop their lives because of me.”

“Alex, you're my brother. I'm going to worry about you.”

“I know.”

“And you don't get to decide that I shouldn't.”

He looked at her, a little surprised by the firmness in her voice.

She sighed.

“I'm not asking you to tell me everything you're thinking. I just don't want you pretending nothing bothers you when it clearly does.”

For a moment, he seemed ready to offer one of his usual dismissive answers. Instead, he looked toward the window.

“Sometimes it scares me too,” he said quietly.

Joan didn't interrupt.

“Not knowing what comes next,” he continued. “Not knowing whether things will get better or worse. I don't always know what to do with that.”

Her expression softened further.

“You don't have to know.”

He glanced at her.

“You don't have to figure everything out right now,” she said. “You just have to take things as they come.”

Alex considered that.

“That's a very sensible thing to say.”

“I have my moments.”

“Rarely.”

She picked up a tissue from the bedside table and threw it at him. He caught it before it landed on his lap.

“See?” he said. “Still got my reflexes.”

“Don't push your luck.”

He smiled, and she finally laughed.

After a moment, he reached for his water again.

“I'm here,” he said. “And you're here. Let's start with that.”

Joan nodded.

“Fine. But if you frighten me like that again, I'm making you do all my assignments when you get home.”

“That seems excessive.”

“You haven't seen my workload.”

“I've changed my mind. I'll behave.”

“You'd better.”

A nurse came in a little later to check his observations and ask how he was feeling. Alex answered her questions while Joan listened, occasionally adding a detail he had left out. When the nurse finished and left, Joan returned to her chair.

She stayed beside him, talking about her day and the things he had missed.

For now, that was enough.

---

By noon, Sierra was back at the apartment for her lunch break.

She pushed the front door shut behind her and dropped her bag onto the nearest chair. She had barely taken two steps toward the kitchen when Sam looked up from the counter.

“You're home early.”

“Lunch break.”

“I know what a lunch break is.” Sam studied her face. “I meant you look like you've had a terrible morning.”

Sierra opened the refrigerator.

“It's been a morning.”

“That's not an answer.”

“It's the one I have.”

Sam put down the spoon she had been holding.

“Okay. What happened?”

Sierra stood with the refrigerator door open, staring at its contents without taking anything out.

For a few seconds, she seemed to consider brushing the question aside. Then she closed the door and turned around.

“I saw Alex yesterday.”

Sam went still.

“What?”

“At the hospital. He was being brought into the emergency department.”

Sam's expression changed immediately.

“Alex?”

Sierra nodded.

“He was having a seizure. It looked serious, Sam. Joan was there, and she was terrified.”

She swallowed, remembering the sight of Joan beside the stretcher, her usual composure gone.

“I didn't know what to do. I just stood there watching them take him inside.”

Sam moved away from the counter.

“Is he okay?”

“I don't know. I didn't speak to Joan, and I haven't seen him since.”

Sierra pulled out a chair and sat down.

“But I spoke to his doctor afterward.”

Sam sat opposite her.

“What did the doctor say?”

“He explained that Alex has epilepsy.”