Minna came with us to the hospital. In the waiting room a new nurse with puppies on her scrubs told us that Blithe was still stable.

“Is the doctor around?” Aiden insisted on asking.

“I’ll page her.”

Blithe’s neighbor was blasting a soap opera, and there was no Operatrix around to shut it off. Blithe looked the same.

Don’t die on me, man, I said inwardly.

Minna did not know Blithe at all, but she whispered him a koan and then went to sit by the far curtain.

Aiden held Blithe’s hand. “Do you think it’s right to keep this from his parents?” he asked.

“No, but do you want to lose him?”

“No.”

The doctor in her lab coat came sweeping in.

“Hi, are you all friends, family?”

“Both,” Aiden said.

“Okay, well, I’m Dr. Garamond. I’ve been looking after Blithe here. It’s quite interesting; his blood tests came back completely normal. We can’t find any medical cause for his loss of consciousness. Can you fill me in on his life these days, any stressors, abnormalities?”

I bit down on my lips so that I didn’t giggle with tension.

“He’s been having some mental health issues. Depression, mainly,” Aiden said, and that word was so small against the scroll of our lives.

“I see. Also not a cause. Well, from a medical standpoint, he’s in good shape. We’re going to keep him here today, but if he’s the same tomorrow, it would be more cost-effective to send him back with you in a cab and have a home health aide pop by.”

She left after checking Blithe’s vital signs.

“Do you feel better?” I asked Aiden.

He shrugged. Minna pulled at her sweater, stretching out the sleeves.

In the bathroom, I splashed water on my face and reminded myself that I had changed from Ruth to R.

When Aiden left for a coffee, I asked Minna, “Are you crushing on Aiden or what?”

“What?” She looked surprised. “I mean, I like him, but I’m not trying to date him or sleep with him.”

“You’re around more, though.”

“Well, ever since Aiden and Blithe have come to the city, you’ve loosened up. You’re not always complaining to me about your doom.”

“Huh.”

We went back to see Blithe the next morning, and the nurse from the previous day greeted us. Her scrubs had flowerpots on them.

“I’m glad you’re here. We tried to call you,” she said. “We wanted you to know that Blithe has regained consciousness but had to be sedated.”

“Wait, what?”

“He awoke extremely agitated. He was experiencing symptoms of delusion and persecution.”

I could have gone on a whole diatribe about how Blithe’s “craziness” was most likely the absolute truth, but I held back.

In his partitioned area, he was sleeping like a child.

The nurse said that we could either take him home with us or have him sent to the psych ward. “Which is quite full at the moment.”

“We’re taking him,” Aiden said.