— a voice asked.
He turned. Taylor was standing there, having stepped out for a break.
— “Yeah,” he managed to say, handing her one. — “Is it okay to smoke here?”
— “Technically no,” she shrugged. — “But there’s a bench around the corner where the cameras don’t reach.”
She took the cigarette, and Andrew instinctively clicked his lighter for her.
— “Thanks.” — Taylor took a drag. — “Were you looking for someone? I saw you by my door.”
— “Me?” — He scrambled for a lie. — “Just trying to make an appointment.”
— “Got it. Front desk closes at five, you’ve still got time.”
They stood there, and Andrew had to fight the urge to tell her everything right then. Talking to his own daughter, who had no idea who he was, was almost more than he could handle.
— “You’re a nurse here?” he asked, though he already knew.
— “Yep. Eleven years now.”
— “Do you like it?”
Taylor gave a dry laugh.
— “Most days. Kids are honest. Adults… adults lie and play games. Kids are easier.”
There was a bitterness in her voice that hinted at an old wound. Andrew wanted to ask more, but he didn’t dare.
— “Anyway,” she said, stubbing out the cigarette. — “I’ve gotta get back. Good luck with the appointment.”
She walked away. Andrew watched her go, every instinct screaming at him to stop her.
— “Wait!” he called out.
Taylor turned around.
— “Yeah?”
He opened his mouth, but the words wouldn’t come. What could he say? “I left your mother thirty years ago”?
— “Nothing…” he muttered. — “Sorry. Wrong person.”
She shrugged and disappeared inside. Andrew stood there for a long time, staring at the door, before finally heading back to his car.
That evening, he went back to see Zelda. She looked even weaker than before.
— “Did you see her?”
— “I did. We even talked for a minute.”
— “And?”
