Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 89598 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 358(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89598 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 358(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
“He’s resting now, but I bet he wakes up for you. He’s been looking forward to your visit.” Julio led him into the living room, where another shock awaited—a hospital bed in the middle of the room where Oscar was sleeping under a pile of colorful quilts.
“What...”
“He’s moved up a few levels in care since you saw him last,” Julio said in soft tones.
“I see.” Guilt flooded Spencer. It had only been a couple of weeks, but weeks were precious for Oscar. He should have been calling daily. Should have known he was going downhill.
“He didn’t want to tell you.” Julio touched his arm. “It’s been hard for him to admit he needs more help.”
“Yeah. He’s always been so independent.”
“Stop talking about me.” Oscar rolled over in the bed, struggling to sit. Both Julio and Spencer rushed to help him achieve a sitting position with the help of the adjustable bed. “It was just a little snooze. And Spencer, is that a white wine? I had Julio order you chicken salad and fruit from the deli down the street. I want to live vicariously through you, so please open it—you know where the glasses are.”
“I don’t want to drink if you can’t,” Spencer protested.
“Nonsense. I’d join you, but morphine has taken both my appetite and my ability to imbibe. But I’ll enjoy your lunch, so indulge an old man and go fix yourself a plate and a glass and come sit with me.”
“I’m going to make you a protein drink,” Julio said to Oscar. “So you won’t be rude to your guest and just watch him eat. We need to get some calories in you too.”
On the way to the kitchen, Julio added to Spencer, “I’m not above using your visit to get him to drink this, so keep him talking. The distraction will help him keep it down.”
After giving Spencer his food, Julio retrieved a can of protein drink from the fridge, but when he went to stick a straw in the opening, Spencer stopped him.
“Here. I have an idea.” He grabbed a wineglass for himself and one of Oscar’s crystal ice tea glasses for him. He emptied the protein shake into the glass and garnished it with a strawberry from his lunch plate. “There. He always was one for details.”
He let Julio carry Oscar’s drink while he balanced his lunch and a small glass of wine. Pulling one of Oscar’s black Swedish-design chairs close to the bed, he took a seat.
“Now, if I’m going to eat, you are too.” He gestured at Oscar’s glass. “Bottoms up.”
“Do you like the salad? It’s the one with grapes and nuts—just divine.” Oscar gave a nostalgic smile.
“I do,” Spencer lied. All food tasted like cardboard to him lately, today especially. “And I’m sorry I haven’t visited more often. You should have told me about all this.” He gestured at the hospital bed and table full of medications.
“Don’t be silly. You’re busy with the new book. And I want to hear all about it.”
Spencer made a noncommittal noise, and typical Oscar, he immediately pounced on that.
“It’s not going well?” Oscar’s bony face narrowed. “Or you’ve set it aside because of your young man? I had a feeling...”
“What?” Spencer almost choked on his next bite of salad. He’d told Oscar about Del, of course, in broad strokes mainly, but enough that Oscar understood the conflict of interest and ethics at stake. “Why would I give up on the book? And we broke up. Better this way.”
“Ah. Well, you made your choice, then.” Oscar gave a rattly sigh. “Shouldn’t have expected any different, I suppose.”
“You really thought I’d give up on the book for him? Oscar, this story needs writing.”
“Yes, they all do, don’t they?” Oscar’s smile was more of a grimace. “You always were a tenacious one. Could always count on you...” He trailed off into a coughing fit.
“Here.” Spencer handed him a water glass, setting the shake back on the side table. “Don’t exert yourself.”
“Tell me something.” Oscar’s voice was weaker now.
Spencer thought fast, trying to find something that was neither about Del nor the book. “I’ll be on NPR in the next few days. My article about the teen business owners was a surprising success—two of them achieved venture-capital funding after the article ran. So we talked on the segment about the role the media can play in crowd-funding as well as attracting heavy hitters and where the businesses will go from here.”
“That’s splendid.” Oscar set the water aside. “Be a dear and grab the laptop over on the table, will you?”
Spencer did as requested. Oscar’s machine wasn’t as new as his and he’d long ago put a sticker on the lid advertising his favorite brand of whiskey. He started to hand Oscar the machine but held up a hand.
“I need you to read something for me. Tell me if there’s a story there.”