Chapter 3 - Off the Train
The next few stops were their own kind of punishment. Every lurch of the car drove into my lower back like a fist.
When my station came, I made for the doors.
"Daniel." Megan was on her feet, paperback hugged to her chest. "I'm getting off here too."
"You don't have to."
"I know."
The doors opened. I stepped onto the platform and my right leg nearly folded under me. I got a hand on the tiled wall and stood there pretending to check my phone.
Megan hurried over. "Do you need help?"
"I just need a minute."
Her face pinched. "I should've said more back there."
"You said plenty."
"No, I didn't."
"You looked about five seconds from hitting him with that book."
"It's Dickens."
"Then he got lucky. Dickens is heavy."
She laughed, but her eyes stayed worried. "Where are you headed?"
"Hospital."
She went pale fast enough that I felt a little guilty.
"Not like that," I said. "I'm speaking at a fundraiser. In a couple of hours, actually."
She glanced at the stairs, then back at me. "Can I walk you to the exit?"
She did it right. Didn't grab my arm. Didn't ask if I was sure every three seconds. Slow enough to help, ordinary enough to let me keep my face.
At the stairs she pointed to the elevator. "No argument."
I smiled and took the elevator.
"You said you're speaking," she said as it climbed. "About what?"
"Accessibility. Patient support. Invisible conditions. All the things people nod along to over lunch and forget by dinner."
"That sounds like it matters."
"It does. I just wish I wasn't showing up like I lost a fight in a parking lot."
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"You didn't lose," she said. When I looked at her, she shrugged. "He got a seat. That's not the same as winning."
At street level she checked her phone. "Funny thing. I'm volunteering at that same hospital today. Nursing student — I've got a shift at the fundraiser."
