"That's gonna be pretty cooked," she told him as she scanned through the document.
Andy just raised his eyebrows and continued with drawing more blood and doing other tests.
"I think," Jenni said. "That it's all going to work out." She slipped the stylus from the corner of the brick and signed.
"Oh, it is," Andy said. "We've got all the FDA bull to get through, but we've done enough of these now, that it's no trouble. You're going to be amazed by how quick it takes. You'll be back on your feet in a day or so."
"That for real?"
"Maybe. Dr Travers wants to get it down to outpatient speed. Come in at eight A.M., get your new arm or whatever fitted, and be home in time to watch the game. Or pick up the kids from school. I'm serious."
"Den?"
"That's the plan," Den said. He was off thinking about other things. Could he talk to her about family stuff? Could he tell her that he hadn't seen their father in years either? The old man kind of stayed visible with his online posts. Fishing, football, and flying. Den kept an eye on it, but never answered, never posted himself. In a way he just wanted to keep track. Some days he felt like a voyeur, spying, but he didn't know how to shut it down. Shut down his own thoughts. He just had to know.
"So we can go home right away?"
"Pretty much," the nurse said. "Tomorrow morning, right?"
"Well," Jenni said. "That is convenient."
The nurse drew lines on Jenni's stump, marking out where the new leg would be fitted. "You need to keep still," he told her.
"Tickles."
Andy managed a smile.
The door opened again and Melissa came back in. "Theater's ready. You two work out your stuff?"
"In ten minutes?" Jenni said. "That's years of bedevilment tangled up in there."
"So let's wheel her through," Andy said. "She's ready to go."
While she was in theater, Den sat back in Melissa's office with a vanilla Pepsi. The leg had been taken from stock, fed with her cells from the nurse's sample to make it quicken to her. She would be under a local anesthetic—not that she really needed one, he thought—and the doctors would be making their incisions around the stump to expose the bone and vessels. The artificial leg would be slipped into place, and the knitting would begin immediately. The straps and tubes of the thing were almost intelligent in the way they could bind to the right places. Capillaries would sneak their way up through her flesh, gluing themselves to her own. The pieces of artificial bone would use their own building blocks to fill the gap to the remains of Jenni's bones. Muscles and tendons would all seek out their natural analogues and stitch in and stretch out.
The doctors would have drips running into both the new leg and her own thigh, bringing bonding chemicals and nutrients directly to the site. Healing would be more rapid than any natural healing her body could manage on its own. And her own body would become stronger and faster-healing in general anyway. Den could see a time that people would opt for artificial replacements for injuries less traumatic. A broken bone that might take weeks or months to heal would become unnecessary. Remove the site of the break, implant some of this technology, and the new bone would graft through in moments.
A pity it wouldn't correct her addictions. She was going to have to do that on her own. Or not. Den was surprised that he cared. She was sick, but more than physically. Mentally. Something missing in her that the drugs filled. A cliché.
And he had something similar, he thought. Not that he'd taken the avenue she had, but she was right: there was something missing in him.
"Hey," Melissa called from the doorway. "Mr. 'Lost in thought.' Let's grab a bite to eat."
He glanced around. "Jenni?"
Melissa shrugged. "In recovery. She did fine, but I think they had to knock her out with gas. Wasn't responding to the locals. Which I think they kind of knew anyway, once they'd seen her blood work. I'm going to be backtracking and filling in paperwork over this for days. Anyway, she's asleep for the next few hours. Maybe you and I can catch up over a burger and fries? Denny's?"
"Sure." Den laughed, but it came out as a squeak. Nervous, he thought.
Melissa gave him a smile.
After they'd eaten, Melissa pushed back into her seat. "You're a small talk champ, you know that?"
"Excuse me?"
"You talked sports and weather, and a little bit about the Middle East situation, but nothing from here." She thumped her chest with a closed fist.
Den shrugged. "What do you want to hear? I'm distracted by my sister. All right? I don't know how to reach her."
"Or your father."
Den stared at her. He managed a shrug again. "He's happy."
"I'm sure he is. I don't understand you, though. You go to all this trouble trying to get her into the program. You somehow manage to get her onto the table with a couple of hours' notice."
"With your help, of course."
"Naturally. You jeopardize your career, your livelihood to do this for a woman you hardly know. The only connection you have with her is that you have the same father. A father whom neither of you have any contact with at all. Ever. The two of you are so different—I mean, she's so fluid and casual, and you're so wound up and kind of control-freaky, but you're really quite alike in many ways."
"Control freak," he said.
"Admit it. Anyway, you snipe at each other like a brother and sister should. You have similar mannerisms. It's kind of cute. It's almost like you grew up together."
"Seriously?" Den thought that his sister seemed as related to him as the alien genetics they were using in the limbs and organs. More than just from a different species; from a different planet entirely.
"I've got an idea," Melissa said. "Where's your father now?"
Den scowled at her, wondering what she was up to. "Don't you go calling him. We're doing fine."
"Sure you are. Where, though?"
"Green River, Wyoming. He's probably out in the woods somewhere fishing. You won't find him. He won't even have his phone with him."
"I'll make you a deal," Melissa said. "You let me organize something, and I'll go out with you again."
Den raised his eyebrows. "Second dates aren't usually a kind of negotiation thing, you know."
"Well, this would be more like an eighth date, after those false starts last December and June."
"Technically."
Melissa smiled. "Here's the thing. I like you. Still. But it's taken until now for me to figure what's up with you."
"Oh, you've got me figured out?"
"Hardly. Just that seeing your sister kind of unpeels a layer."
Melissa stopped speaking and stayed silent. Den watched her. She had silky eyes, that seemed to flow in their sockets, the pupils wide, her lids lowered. The waitress came to ask if they wanted coffee. They ordered.
"Okay," Den said after she'd gone. "What's your plan?"
"You should see him."
Den didn't answer.
After a moment their coffees came and Melissa sugared hers up, tipped in lite-white and sipped. She closed her eyes. "Never as good as home," she said. She opened her eyes. "But not bad. We should be getting back. She might be waking."
Den took a slug of his own coffee. It was all right. Not flash, but far from the worst he'd had. He took another gulp, then set it down and stood. "Let's go."
Jenni was conscious when they came into the recovery room. "Where have you two lovebirds been?" she said. "I've been awake for ages."
Den told her. "We didn't think you'd have woken already."
"Strong constitution," she said. "It feels kind of weird, though. It's like a reverse phantom limb. I used to have that, you know, the sense of the leg still being there, even though it wasn't. Now it's like I've got the sense of the prosthesis, but it's an actual leg. You want to have a look?"
"Of course," he said.
Jenni swung around on the bed, slipping the leg out from the covers. She flexed it up and down. "Don't know how come it's so healed up already. Takes me months just to heal a scratch these days. You know, with my compromised system and all."
The leg looked fine to Den. The skin tone was a little off, and he could see the seam, but the leg itself would still be working on that, looking at Jenni's system and adapting itself to her. Aside from that, it seemed perfect. There were no indentations or bumps around the join, except for the tiny scar. She moved it around for them, lifting her toes up and twisting her ankle.
"Did you put any weight on it yet?" Melissa asked.
"Already? Hang no. That would be just inviting disaster, don't you think?"
"Has the physio been in to look you over?"
"I think so. Cute guy, twenty-three or so?"
"Carl."
"Yeah. He came and twisted and pulled at it. I think he said he would be back later.
I was still pretty groggy, though I'm pretty often pretty groggy." She grinned, but it faded quickly. She put her hand up to her mouth. "Uh-oh."
"Problem?" Melissa said.
Den stepped back. He eyed the door. So much for what Melissa wanted to happen in his family.
Jenni stared at him. She dropped her hand and pushed herself off the bed.
"Steady," Melissa said.
Den moved for the door. He got his hand on the latch, but that was all.
Jenny swiped at him. Her fist caught his elbow and his arm swung down. Pain sheared up his upper arm. He yelped and stumbled to the floor.
"Den," Melissa said.
Jenni staggered back. She lost her footing and fell beside him. It felt like she twisted intentionally to land right on top of him. He yelped again. Jenni started laughing.
"What's so funny?" Melissa said. She bent and helped Jenni to her feet.
"Him," Jenni said. She looked down at her feet. "And look at me." "Look at you."
Den rolled to a sitting position. His arm still ached. He hadn't known that she could punch so hard.
Jenni took a step, then another. "Wow," she said. "This is only a couple of hours old.
How can that be?"
"Complicated," Den said. Clutching his injured elbow, he got to his feet.
"Den can explain it all to you on your trip up north," Melissa said. She still looked mystified.
Jenni nodded. "Good. He's got a whole lot of explaining to do. Like what's going on in my head. He can drive me home slow."
"She doesn't mean back to Ridgecrest," Den said. He stared at Melissa. "Or do you?"
She shook her head. "I'm getting you tickets. Den's treat. What do you mean, 'in your head'?"
"My treat?" Den said.
"You want to argue?"
"Something's off with my head," Jenni said. "Something missing."
"Sit down," Melissa said. "You've got a whole battery of tests coming up. We can get you MRI-ed first up. See what's happening. It won't be a big deal, I can assure you."
"Oh, it's going to be a big deal all right."
Melissa looked over at him. "Den?"
"Buy the tickets. Whatever."
Andy came in, carrying a clipboard. He cast a wary eye over the three of them, then zoomed in on Jenni. "Looking fine," he said. "You think you're ready to start with the tests?"
"You bet."
"Have you been walking on it already? Seriously, you can't do that yet. What if it just snapped off, huh? Then where would you be?"
"It's not going to snap off," Den said.
"Well, I defer to the expert, of course. Now, you two scram and let me take care of all this. You can come back in the morning."
"How many tests are you giving her?" Den knew there were a bunch, plus the MRI
Melissa wanted, but nothing like enough to go through the night.
"A couple now, more in the morning. She needs to sleep. That's the most important thing."
"I feel fine," Jenni said. "Alert and bright."
"You, honey, are getting some sleep. Now, Melissa and Den. Out."
"Come on," Melissa said. "Let's go."
Den took a step toward Jenni, almost ready to give her a hug, but it felt awkward and forced. She was his sister, but the new leg hadn't brought them any closer. He shouldn't expect that so soon anyway. It might take a year. And then it might only be fractional. He didn't even know why he wanted it.
"Scoot," the nurse said.
Den followed Melissa out to the corridor. She stopped and watched him for a moment.
"What?"
"Maybe you want to go for a drink?"
He glanced back at the door to the treatment room. He nodded and looked back at Melissa. "Sure. That would be good."
"We can take my car."
She drove an ageing Prius, but she drove it fast. She zipped the car out of the basement lot and onto Argyle Avenue doing thirty-five before she was even properly into her lane. "You need to relax," she said. "I'm not going to kill us."
"Uh-huh. Has this thing even got collision avoidance?"
"Don't think so. Pretty sure it predates all that. It's a loaner, you should know that.
My car's in the shop. You think I would drive something like this by choice?"
"It seems like I don't know anything about you at all." He clutched at the door handle and the side of the seat as she changed lanes and broke left onto Constitution Avenue.
"Ha, I like it like that." She didn't say anything for a few blocks, then, "You and your sister aren't very close."
"We didn't grow up together. She was practically in high school when I was born. And she was never around anyway. Complicated custody. By the time I was cognizant enough to know I had a sister, she'd dropped off the radar entirely."
"I know. It's kind of just you, isn't it?"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean that you've only met her a couple of times. And you're estranged from your parents."
"From my father. My mom's dead."
"Just like Jenni's."
"Yeah."
Melissa pulled up outside a bar. The lights outside were gaudy, flashing, and he could already hear shouting from inside. "I, uh—"
"Kidding," she said. She pulled out into traff ic again. "Sheesh. We're going to Marlow's."
Den glanced back. "Your beat-up old car would have seemed right at home parked out front of that place." He looked around at her. "Your tastes are changing, is what I thought." He saw her smile.