Meet Me Where the Oak Tree Grows

Ms. Costa once told me I had a lovely name. Jonah, now that's a nice name too. His parents must have really loved him.
The day I was born, my mom asked my dad to come up with a name. Feeling a bit impatient, he glanced at a little stream by the fields and said, "Let's
call her Lana." And my mom just went along with it.
It wasn't until I met Ms. Lana that I realized I actually I had a lovely name.
The sounds around me slowly dimmed. The meds kicked in, and I drifted back to sleep. When I woke up again, it was already afternoon.
"Hold it there for a bit. Don’t let it bleed," the nurse said after finishing the last IV drip. She removed the needle and nodded at Jonah, who was
standing nearby.
Jonah grabbed a chair and sat down, pressing his rough fingers onto the bandage on my hand. Just the right amount of pressure.
I tried to pull my hand back, about to say I could handle it. But my throat was dry and scratchy, my voice barely a croak.
He held my hand steady and offered me a paper cup from the bedside. "Take it easy, your throat sounds like it’s been through a war."
I couldn't argue with that. Taking the cup with my left hand, I sipped a bit. The water was just right—sweet and warm. It’s sugared water. I blinked
slowly, savouring the sweetness before swallowing.
It was just the two of us in the room, and I wasn’t sure what to say. So I just nursed the water, sipping slowly.
After a while, Jonah checked the time and let go of my hand. "We'll get you an X-ray later, just to check your ears."
I shook my head instinctively. The money in my piggy bank barely covered the IV. More tests would be too pricey; I couldn’t swing it.
I tried to speak with my raspy voice for a bit, but we just ended up staring at each other, a bit lost. Then it hit me.
Using hand gestures and mouthing words, I tried to get my point across, hoping he’d catch on. After some thinking, he looked puzzled and said, "Are
you doing a mime act? I can't make heads or tails of it."
I felt a bit desperate. I rubbed my thumb and forefinger together, pointed at myself, waved my hand, then pointed at him. That should be clear. I was
saying I didn’t have money to give him.
Finally, he seemed to get it, and I breathed a sigh of relief.
He chuckled, "You're saying you want to give me your heart? But then changed your mind?"

I was floored. That was way off.
"Alright, stop messing with her," came a familiar voice as the door swung open. It was Jonah's mom. I hadn’t gotten a good look at her earlier.
They had similar features, but she looked gentle and warm, unlike Jonah, who seemed a bit gruff. She playfully nudged Jonah off the chair with a
teasing scold.
Teasing me, huh? I glanced at him to confirm. He looked away, rubbing his nose.
Oh, really.
She placed a thermos on the table and opened it. The comforting aroma of soup filled the room. She touched my forehead and smiled, "Here, you
just got over a fever. Have something light, and once you're better, we can have whatever you want."
I looked at the steaming soup in front of me. Swallowing hard, I shook my head apologetically. I didn’t have much to offer them in return. I had so little.
"You haven't eaten all day. That’s no good. Be a good girl and eat," she coaxed.