Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 78387 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 314(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78387 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 314(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
We finally make it to the cafeteria, where I meet Beulah, who makes me spaghetti and meatballs with garlic bread. John orders the same, and when our meal is ready, Beulah brings it out to us.
“I’ve never been served in a hospital cafeteria before.”
“Oh, believe me, she doesn’t do this for everyone. If she doesn’t like you, she’ll tell you she’s busy and to scram. She’s a feisty one, but I bring her flowers every week to make her smile, and those seem to do the trick.”
“I’ll remember that for next time.”
John’s fork stills. “Next time, huh? Are we going to make this a weekly thing?”
I shrug. “I’m not very optimistic.”
“That’s a shame. My daughter says you have to manifest the outcome you want. I want to grow a full head of hair, but that never seems to happen. She manifested her raise, though, so it does work.”
I chuckle. “That’s awesome.”
“What do you do for work?”
“I’m in advertising. I focus mostly on brand management, graphics, and work directly with marketing on products.”
“Fun job?”
“Meh.” I shrug. “I love it, but it’s not overly challenging until a diva client comes in and then it’s like playing a game of hide and seek. How long were you a firefighter?”
“Thirty years. Best job of my life besides being a dad, of course.”
“Of course,” I say. “How’s retirement?”
John sighs, but it sounds more like a groan. “Boring, which is why I volunteer here. At first, it felt like I was on vacation, but after a few weeks, I became stir crazy. I started working at an animal shelter, but after bringing home my third dog in as many weeks, I thought I needed to find something else. I knew a lot of the emergency room staff and one of them suggested I work here.”
“Is this all you do? Show people around?”
“Nah,” he says, shaking his head. “I’ll pick up lunch for staff or deliver flowers to rooms. Sometimes I’m the greeter at the front desk or playing in the kids' room. Wherever I’m needed.”
My phone rings and my heart sinks. I answer and tell the nurse I’ll be right there. John and I clean up and make our way across the skywalk and into the building where most of the offices are.
“Want me to come in with you?”
His question gives me pause. I barely know this man, but in the short time we’ve spent together today, I like him. “I’d like that,” I say.
The nurse takes us to Dr. McNally’s office, and I brace myself for the news. If it was nothing, I wouldn’t be here. I grip the arms of the chair . . . and wait.
By the time I get home, I’m numb. Nothing makes sense anymore. A knock on the car window startles me. Quinn stands there and motions for me to get out of the car. I do, but it takes a massive effort on my part.
“Hey.” I’m nonchalant in my greeting, hoping Quinn thinks he didn’t just walk up on me sitting in my car.
“What are you doing?”
“Just thinking.”
“I was standing here for ten minutes, dude. What’s going on?”
I shake my head and tell him to come inside. Every house on this road has cameras and listening devices. The last thing I want is for my neighbors to hear my business. Inside, I ask Quinn if he’d like something to drink. He asks for a water, and the bottles of beer mock me as I stare in the refrigerator. I’m not supposed to drink, but with what I’m going through, should I really care? I’m not sure I should.
I bring Quinn his water, and sit down. He twists the top, takes a drink, and then asks me again what’s happening.
“I have cancer.” Saying it aloud sucks just as bad as hearing it from my doctor. “Fucking cancer.”
“What?” Quinn’s mouth drops open and his eyes widen.
I stare down at my legs, unwilling to look at Quinn. “I found a lump a couple of weeks ago. The doctor ran some tests and it’s cancer. Doc thinks it’s at least stage two, whatever the hell that means. I have to go to an oncologist at the end of the week, and I’ll have surgery. I don’t have much more than that.”
“Did you call Elle?”
Now, I look at Quinn. “Why would I? I don’t want her pity, and I definitely don’t want yours. I have enough to deal with. Elle left. We’re done. This is my issue. It’s not news you can share with others. That’s the last thing I want. Hell, I don’t even know why I told you, except I have a feeling you wouldn’t leave me alone until you prodded the shit out of why I’m so fucking depressed.”
Quinn stares, his expression unreadable.
“Fuck,” I say. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to unload on you. I’m just frustrated—”