18
Angela and Sheila had dinner together once a week, and it was Angela’s turn to host. Sheila wished that Angela would just let her host every week, given the constraints that came with dining at Angela’s trailer, but Angela insisted on taking turns.
As Sheila pulled up to the side of the road beside Angela’s trailer, she saw an unfamiliar car and was immediately put on alert. No one ever parked there. They’d have no reason to.
Sheila parked her car behind it and sat for a moment, thinking. Was Angela seeing someone? Had she made a friend, suddenly? Neither of those things sounded like her, but Sheila was heartened at the thought her sister might have been spending time with someone other than her chickens.
She inspected the car through her windshield, waiting for a bell to ring in her memory. It didn’t.
She quietly opened her car door and stepped out onto the pavement. She moved slowly toward the trailer.
Without warning, a man came out of the trailer and started barreling down the front steps, nearly knocking Sheila over. She let out a yelp as he faceplanted into her shoulder.
“What the fuck!” Sheila shouted, shoving the man off of her.
“Sorry!” the man shrieked.
“Who are you?” Sheila demanded, backing away from the man whose eyes were practically bursting out of their sockets.
“I was just looking for—I was just trying to find Angela! I’m just… I was just leaving!”
The man walked past Sheila and toward the car that must have been his.
“Stop,” Sheila said. “Why were you in her house?”
He stopped walking and stood with his back to Sheila for a moment. He turned around slowly, like a kid who had been caught misbehaving.
“I was just…,” he said, his voice trembling. “I wanted to talk to her. But she’s not home. I’ll come back some other time.”
“Talk to her about what? Who are you?” Sheila said.
“I’m… well, it’s sort of... I’m not quite… at liberty to say,” the man said.
“You’re not at liberty to say? You were in her house!”
“I know, it probably looks really weird! I swear, I was just—”
“I’m calling the cops,” Sheila interrupted, pulling her phone out of her pocket.
“She has an infection!” Elijah blurted.
Sheila looked up from her phone.
“What are you talking about?” she said.
“My name is Elijah Cajal. I’m a medical student. I came to check on Angela because she has an infection. I’m not supposed to tell you that,” Elijah said, his face turning red.
“What kind of infection?” Sheila said, her anger giving way to concern.
Elijah just stared at her.
“Are you Sheila?” he asked.
“How do you—?”
“She left a note in there for you.”
Sheila pushed past Elijah and walked through the trailer door. She looked around at the chickens, then at the kitchen table. Sure enough, there was a note on the table. She read the note quickly, and then noticed the pill bottles. She turned back to Elijah, feeling hurt that Angela hadn’t told her about any of this—that she had to find out her sister was sick from someone she’d never met.
“This doesn’t answer any of my questions,” Sheila said, picking up the note and flapping it in Elijah’s face.
“Your questions—”
“Why were you in her house?”
“I just wanted to check in on her—”
“Why?” Sheila glared at him. “Doctors—or whatever you are—can’t just show up at people’s houses unannounced”
“My supervisor gave me permission to come,” Elijah protested. “I was—we were concerned—I wanted to make sure...” he trailed off. “I really shouldn’t reveal any of her health information.”
“Is something wrong with her?” Sheila demanded. “Something must be really wrong if you went inside her house. Or did your supervisor give you permission to do that, too?”
“I’m really not supposed to say. You would have to ask her about it. I’m sorry,” Elijah said.
“Then we’ll wait,” Sheila said.
Elijah stared at her blankly.
“You can read, can’t you?” she said. “The note said she’d be back soon, so we’re going to wait for her together. And then you’re going to tell her why you broke into her home while she was out.”
“I didn’t break—”
“Shut it!”
Elijah said nothing. The chickens clucked.
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