She was sitting with a pen in-between her lips, thinking about how gross it was to have a pen in-between her lips.
"You've never heard of them?" he asked.
She shook her head. He looked at her. Down. Maybe this wasn't going to work out the way he thought.
She took the pen out of her mouth and set in on the side-table. Nodded as if she'd been asked a question. Enjoying a beat. Except the only sound was the hum of the lights and the occasional tire-over-pavement let in from the open window.
She licked her lips then looked at him. Smiled.
He rubbed his hands on his thighs and averted her gaze.
"Oh," he said.
"Did you ever want to get a tattoo?" she asked.
"No."
She was looking at her pale arm lying in front of her. "I was told it's like slicing open skin." She was smiling.
His lips were parted and eyebrows low, envisioning her laughing at the ink-needle that felt like a torture chamber. He scratched the back of his head.
"I was thinking about an octopus," she said.
"What?"
"For a tattoo."
"Oh. Why?"
"I like the tentacles."
He bit the inside of his lip. She's being ridiculous, he thought.
"What do you think about cars?" she asked.
He was silent. Wanted someone else to look at. An excuse to laugh out loud.
"I mean, it's stupid, isn't it?" she said. "Traveling 100 kilometers an hour. For what?"
"Family, sights," he said. He drove long distances almost every weekend. Sometimes to see her. She looked at him without smiling.
"And you haven't killed anybody?"
He blinked a couple of times, faster than usual. "No."
"Huh." She sounded surprised. As though he will kill somebody. As though he should have by now.
She was biting her fore-finger. Playing with her upper lip. Looking out the window.
"I should be going," he said.
She looked down. "Right."
"You didn't expect me to--"
"No," she said.
He stood. She didn't look up at him as he made his way to the door.
"Goodbye, Mom," he said. She waved an arm without looking. The man lingered at the door. Surveyed the small room. Bed, window, tv, bathroom to his left. It wasn't his fault she was here. It's society. She doesn't mind. She has people to talk to. The nurses wheel her around. She might not be able to leave whenever she wants, or garden, but she's safe. Cared for. She gets what she needs here.
The man shut the door behind him as he left.