"Yes, though she thinks they're from me," he grumbled.
"That doesn't matter as long as she got them," I said as our waitress approached our table cautiously.
"I'll have the club sandwich with the fries," I said, placing my order before she could ask. I smiled broadly at her as I handed over my menu.
"And you?" she asked Charles after shooting me a look that pretty much indicated she thought I was crazy.
"When do they think she'll be released?" I asked, pumping him for information.
"Her doctor is going to wait until after her last chemo treatment. He wants to make sure her immune system doesn't decide to act up again. Once she's out of the woods, she'll start recovery."
"How does she look?" I asked, unable to shake the image of how she had looked hooked up to all the machines when I had last seen her.
"Rough. It's obvious she's in pain," he said, holding up his palm when I went to interrupt. "I talked to Dr. Davis before I left, and he said he had already put in the order to up her pain medicine," he finished before I could say anything.
"She shouldn't have to be in that much pain," I said through gritted teeth.
He sighed, used to my outbursts by now. "Agreed, and we're taking care of it. We care about her well-being too," he reminded me. "You have to remember, Ashton is very stubborn, and we're trying our best to read between the lines."
I slumped down in my seat as my sudden burst of anger dissipated. I knew he was right. I had seen firsthand just how stubborn Ashton could be. It just frustrated me beyond words that I couldn't be by her side when she needed me the most.
"How's the writing going?" he asked, changing the subject.
"Not bad. Turns out I kind of have a knack for writing stories. The News Journal just bought another one of my stories and optioned for the one I'm currently working on. I've also landed a couple online writing jobs. Who knew a lie about a fictional job would turn into something? Of course, I know you had a part in it. Thanks again, Charles."
"All I did was place a call to a friend of mine. The rest was all you."
"We sure have come a long way from you wanting to shove my nuts down my throat," I joked.
"You hurt my girl and you just better hope you can choke them down," he threatened.
I nodded, falling back on the crux of the whole thing. She had asked me to wait and I was trying my damnedest to be patient, but having her so close and not being able to be with her was killing me.
Charles and I finished our lunch in silence. "You'll call me if anything happens," I stated, dropping money on the table to cover the check.
"You know I will. Are we fishing Sunday?" he asked, pulling on his light jacket.
"Do you think it's wise to leave her for a day so you can go off fishing?"
"Boy, this fishing trip isn't for me. I guess you haven't looked in a mirror lately, but trust me when I say you look like hell."
"How's Wilma?" I asked, ignoring his observation as we exited the restaurant together.
"She misses Ashton, but otherwise she still acts like she owns the place."
"Sounds like a typical cat," I said. "I'll see you Sunday as long as you think it's okay to leave her for a day."
"By Sunday she'll be ready to cut off my head if I don't give her a break," he said before crossing the street.
I watched his retreating back for a few seconds as he disappeared through the hospital doors. My steps were noticeably lighter as I rounded the corner to the hospital's parking garage. The last few days had been the worst of my life and had given me a better insight to why Ashton had tried to keep me away. I now knew she was trying to spare me the heartache, but she underestimated my feelings for her. Even after a two-month absence, she still dominated my thoughts. She was my first thought in the morning and the last at night. The note she had left me was nothing but a tattered mess from the countless times I had read it and still, I waited.
I fed Fred when I arrived home before stumbling to my bed and crashing. Four days of sleepless nights had finally caught up to me. I slept through the rest of the day and all that night.
Waking up refreshed the next morning, I placed a call to the hospital and cajoled the nurse into giving me an update on Ashton's status. Pleased to hear that she was on the road to recovery, I got back to my everyday responsibilities, even though the task of trying to take my mind off of her was impossible. The rest of the week followed the same routine: wake up, call the hospital, pretend I was a normal human. The only deviations from my schedule were the days I allowed myself to camp out at the diner to work. I was happier on those days. Being close at hand though, I was beginning to feel like a crazy stalker.
I was working at the diner the following week, sucking down coffee that the waitresses kept filled to the brim, when in a moment of weakness, I had confessed my real reason for constantly being there. The response was immediate. I was no longer the customer they tried to pawn of on one another. Instead, every waitress fought over who would serve me after that.
"Today's when she's being released, right?" Cathy, one of the older waitresses, asked, joining me at the booth they designated as mine. It was a prime location due to the fact that it butted up to the big plate glass window that faced the hospital.