A Five-Minute Life

“So far, everything you’re experiencing is consistent with what the Sydney team is reporting with their first group of patients,” Dr. Milton said. “In fact, you’re doing so well, I feel confident I can leave you in Dr. Chen’s capable hands.”

“You’re leaving her?” Delia was at the door, staring daggers at Dr. Milton. “She’s only been out of the hospital three days.”

“Ah, Ms. Hughes,” Dr. Milton said, shooting me a wink. “We weren’t expecting you until this afternoon.”

Delia stood beside me. “When you would’ve been long gone, sneaking out without talking to me?”

“I had every intention of discussing Thea’s case with you,” he said patiently. “I’m not leaving like a thief in the night. Perhaps in the next few days, if she continues to do so well. We’re pleased with her progress.”

“Hear that, Deel?” I said. “I’m doing great, so chill the hell out.”

“How about some breakfast?” Rita said.

“Go. Enjoy,” Dr. Chen said. “We’ll check back with you after lunch.”

Delia, Rita, and I headed down to the dining room. Margery, behind the counter, gave me a tray of oatmeal, toast, fruit, and orange juice.

“Coffee too, please,” I said.

Margery glanced at Rita who glanced at Delia.

“You’re kidding,” I said to my sister. “You didn’t let me have coffee? And I thought the wardrobe was the torture.”

“It’s not good for you,” Delia said. “Juice is better.”

“To be fair,” Rita said, “we didn’t want the caffeine to interfere with your sleep patterns.”

“Decaf doesn’t exist in this part of Virginia?” I said with a laugh. I stopped. “Wait. We are still in Virginia, right?”

Delia rolled her eyes. “Always, with the dumb jokes.”

“Damn skippy,” I said, turning to Margery. “Coffee, please. A big one.”

“You got it, sweetheart.”

She passed me a steaming mug and I took a sip.

“God, even no cream or sugar and it’s heaven. But I’m going to need cream and sugar, please, Marge. And lots of it.”

We took our trays to a table near the window. Other residents were having their breakfast with the aid of their assistants.

I put cinnamon on my oatmeal and took a bite. Warm and sweet and perfect.

“I haven’t had oatmeal in two years,” I said, taking another heaping spoonful.

“Don’t be silly, of course, you have,” Delia said, forking a piece of strawberry from her fruit bowl. “Nearly every morning.”

“But I couldn’t remember eating it or what it tasted like.” My eyes widened, and I glanced back to the counter. “Do they have bacon? Oh my God, I must have bacon.”

“Not on Wednesdays,” Rita said.

“So let’s go out. What are the good breakfast places around here?”

Delia and Rita exchanged looks.

“It’s a little soon, don’t you think?” Delia said. “You had surgery less than a week ago.”

I glanced a table over, at Mr. Webb and his dented head. Then at Ms. Willis who had a hard time holding her utensils. She looked up and gave me a faltering smile. I smiled back though I suddenly felt like crying.