Total pages in book: 26
Estimated words: 25004 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 125(@200wpm)___ 100(@250wpm)___ 83(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 25004 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 125(@200wpm)___ 100(@250wpm)___ 83(@300wpm)
Obviously wanting someone to be healthy and not suffer doesn’t mean you love them. There’s something more.
My stomach rumbles. The clock over the door of the lab says that it’s well past lunchtime. I also notice that my assistants’ stations are unmanned. It’s not quitting time, so they should be there.
I venture out in search of Calvin, but all I find is a brown lunch sack with my name on it and a yellow sticky note. I open the bag and find a ham and Swiss sandwich inside. The bread looks golden and crusty like I’d find at Lucia’s restaurant. I smile. She must not be mad at me anymore since she brought this over. Or at least sold it to Calvin. In good spirits, I bite into the sandwich, but the minute the bread hits my teeth, I know it isn’t hers. The bread’s crust is soft, and the inside is too hard. The ham tastes metallic, and the cheese is bland. I spit the bite into my hand and dump the whole thing into the trash. My Lucia would never make this.
I pause. Is that love? That I can’t eat anything other than her food? After all, the ingredients she uses are the same as any other chef. The staff here happily eats other food. In the past, even I was able to complete a meal. There’s no scientific explanation for why I wouldn’t be able to eat food other than hers, so it has to be in my head…or I guess my heart?
I wonder what Lucia would say if I told her this theory. She might not believe me, but we could test the hypothesis in her kitchen. I’d bring some food cooked by a three-star Michelin chef to Lucia’s. She could make the same dishes, and then I’d try each one. Even better, I could do it blindfolded.
Enthused by this plan, I head back to the lab for my wallet. As I push on the door, I realize I still have the sticky note in my hand. I peel it off my palm and take a look.
Dr. Ali,
Calvin’s husband was in a bad accident. We took him to the hospital. Calvin says you should eat your sandwich before the sauce makes the bread soggy.
I drop the sticky note to the floor and race to the elevators. It takes too long for me to arrive at the hospital. In the waiting room, the entire staff is huddled around Calvin. A tightness in my chest makes it hard to breathe. I hate hospitals, but Calvin has been my assistant for years. I push myself forward and clear my throat. “How’s Russ?”
Calvin’s head shoots up, and he peers at me with glassy eyes. “J-jase? What are you doing here?”
“I got the note.” I reach for my pocket, and then recall I dropped it back at the lab.
“You didn’t have to come but—” He launches himself into my arms and buries his head in my neck. Awkwardly, I pat his back for very long, excruciatingly uncomfortable moments.
His tears finally taper off, and when he looks around for a tissue, I back away. My neck is wet, and I really want to rub the moisture away, but that seems like it’d be rude, so I stand there like a mannequin until Calvin collects himself.
“He’s still in surgery. I don’t know how long. You’re going to stay with me, right?”
I wasn’t planning on it. I have a blind food taste test to run, but somehow, that doesn’t seem like the right thing to say. I feel like Lucia would understand. I’ll let her know later tonight. I should be able to get to her before the restaurant closes.
As the hours wear on, though, and the afternoon turns to evening, Russ is still on the operating table. Each hour that ticks by, Calvin becomes more unhinged. I had to take him to the bathroom after he tried to tackle a nurse walking by. I knock on the stall door.
“You okay in there?”
“No,” he sobs, but like before, he manages to collect himself. He opens the metal door and gives me a watery smile. “I wouldn’t have been able to cope if you weren’t here, Jase. Honestly, I never thought you were a hospital hand-holding type of guy, but I should’ve remembered that you spent a lot of time here in grad school when your mom was sick.” He swipes an arm across his cheek. “I’m okay now. I promise I won’t attack anyone.”
It’s not a promise he really had to make because when we return to the waiting room, the nurse has good news. Russ is out of surgery and in recovery.
“I’ll be going then,” I say.
Calvin grabs my arm. “No, you can’t go yet. Please come and see Russ with me. Otherwise, I’m afraid I’ll break down again, and I don’t want to upset him. Please?”