She throws her head back on the pillows. “Years. As long as I take my meds, I’m fine, but sometimes . . .”
A fire can throw everything haywire.
“When we get you home, we’re going to start eating healthier. No more red meat, more exercising, and less alcohol—”
She pouts, cutting me off. “I have maybe twenty years left, and that’s being optimistic, and I refuse to spend them being an old fuddy-duddy. I want fun, Giselle, crazy laughs, roller coasters, and men with big schlongs—”
“Hey, ladies!”
I look over at John Wilcox. He’s about five-eleven and lean with thinning hair and a big smile. He looks so much better than last night that I jump up and give him a hug, squishing the takeout bag from a sushi place. He chuckles and pats my back. “Ah, it’s good to see you well. Guess we didn’t get a proper introduction last night. I’m thankful you saw the smoke so soon. This is my son, Robert.” He indicates the younger guy behind him.
“And you delivered sushi.”
John grins and holds up the bag from Myrtle’s favorite restaurant. “It’s just what she asked for. I brought it. That’s how I roll.” He looks at his son. “Get it?”
His son shakes his head, smiling. “Dad, we all got it.”
My grin feels like it might split it’s so big. I like him, my eyes tell the lady in the bed.
Yeah? her expression says.
I lean over and whisper in her ear. “Big hands.”
“One minute in the room, and they’re whispering,” John muses, setting the food on the small table in the corner.
“If we don’t make you wonder what we’ll do next, it’s not worth the effort,” Myrtle chirps.
He smiles at her.
I feel the zing between them.
Robert looks a little older than me, in slacks and a summer blazer. Rather handsome in a studious way. We chat for a few moments, catching them up on Myrtle’s situation, sans the marijuana request. John tells me they ran by the apartment and found his cat, and I mentally cross that off my list of things to do. They settle in some straight-backed chairs his son finds in the hall and divide up the food. They offer me some, but I tell them I had a big breakfast.
John says he’s staying with his son until a new place comes up, and it dawns on me that Myrtle doesn’t have anywhere to go when she’s discharged. Once the apartment building is open, it may take weeks for the restoration. I pick up my phone that’s still charging and type a few notes.
1. Research A-fib.
2. Find M a place to stay.
3. Find myself a place! Can’t stay long at Devon’s.
4. Call All-State Insurance.
5. Call Patricia. Come on . . . she’s your mom.
I glance at the clock and jump up.
“Sorry, guys, I have to go,” I say, grabbing my things and stuffing them in my bag. After my Walmart visit, I came straight here, and the time flew while we waited for the doctor to show up so I could talk to him. “I’m on rotation to teach a summer class today.” I dash over and kiss Myrtle on the temple and give her one last squeeze. “I’ll call you later and let Pookie hear your voice. Maybe I can get a night visit in, yes?”
“Only if you have time,” she warns me. “You need to study and write more chapters and email them to me. I can read on my phone. Thank goodness it was in my purse.”
“I can sit with her tonight,” John calls as I make it to the door. I look back, and he and Myrtle are gazing at each other—level five all the way.
A long sigh comes from me. Maybe something good came from the fire after all. If my bestie found zing, well, that’s pretty awesome.
On my way to Vandy, driving in a car I could never afford, my mind tumbles around to this morning.
Devon saw my tattoo, and now he has an inkling that I knew of him before we ever met. He’s not going to let me live it down, I bet. After getting out of the car, I’m smiling as I fast walk across the quad to the physics building, where I alternate with other cohorts to teach a summer-session class to underclassmen.
I pause before I go in the door, thinking about my curse. This birthday, this month, is going to be fine, I tell myself. The worst was the fire, and it already happened.
Fate laughs.
“So Stranger Things—could it be closer to the truth than we realize?” This comes from Corey, a lanky baseball player who’s retaking Intro to Physics.
Like me, he’s a little fascinated by the multiverse. We’ve mostly wrapped up our lesson, and we’re running through notes—but we tend to get lost on topics that aren’t part of their curriculum. “Well, no.”