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“Good morning.”
“Holly!”
Did I say that?
“I’m Holly.”
Laugh. Someone is laughing. His face is fuzzy. His teeth are bright.
“Sorry. I’ll shave closer next time, so my face isn’t so fuzzy.”
Oh, good. He knows he’s fuzzy, too.
“How do you feel, little sis?”
His face is near my face.
“You’re Marcus.”
Bright smile again.
“Yes, I am. And you’re Holly. You’re done with your surgery. You’re in the recovery room.”
“Am I sick?”
“No, Holly. You’re not sick.”
“Okay, good.”
“Hey, sweetie.” Another face. Darker but still fuzzy.
“I don’t think she realizes how much she’s actually verbalizing.”
“Pops!”
More laughter. Deep, deep laughter.
“That’s right. Take your time, baby girl.”
“I love you.” I try to reach my hands up to squeeze their fuzzy faces, but my arms are heavy.
“We love you, too.”
“I love Ben, too.”
“You do?”
Neither of the fuzzy faces is speaking.
Who’s talking?
“Oh, sorry, dear. That was just me.”
Ben’s mom. She’s fuzzy, too.
Did they decide to have a fuzzy party, and I wasn’t invited? Or was I invited?
More laughing.
