Lana plays with her hair as we sit and wait to be called. The news is on but she’s watching the windows. Her leg bounces faster and faster by the second. I slip my hand into hers. She squeezes mine without looking at me, but her leg slows to a much healthier bounce. Lana hates hospitals. I lean into her and lower my lips to her ear.
“It’s gonna be fine,” I tell her.
She doesn’t look at me, but she does smile. It’s much softer than the nervous tight-lipped smile she gave the nurse when we got here. “It’s gonna be fine,” she repeats, more for herself than me.
I rub circles into the back of her hand with my thumb, and she hums quietly.
I know this song. She’s humming Working Man by Imagine Dragons. It’s one of her favorite songs to dance to in the morning.
“Good thing we got here early.” I need to distract her.
“Mmhhmm.” She nods, squeezing my hand, her eyes glued to the windows. She’s always got to see the outside.