Page 52 of Maybe in Another Life

“You bet your ass it is,” I say.

“Somebody bring you a pastry?” Henry says. His deep blue scrubs are a flattering color. I don’t mean that they specifically flatter him. I just mean I’ve noticed most of the nurses wear a sort of rose pink or light blue. But the navy blue he has is just much more attractive. If I were a nurse, I’d wear dark blue scrubs, sunup to sundown.

“Yeah,” I say. I can’t believe I forgot. I immediately grab the box. “My dad brought me a cinnamon roll.”

“Oh, man, my weak spot,” Henry says. “I don’t have much of a sweet tooth, but I love a good cinnamon roll.”

I am so eager to express my own love for cinnamon rolls that I stumble over my words. “That’s what... I am... you love?... Me, too.”

He laughs at me.

“I mean, I love cinnamon rolls. I have a cinnamon roll problem,” I say.

“No such thing,” he says.

Now that we are talking about it, I’m finding it impossible not to eat some of it right now. I open the box and pull off a piece. “You want some?” I ask.

“Oh, that’s OK,” Henry says.

“You sure? My dad got this from Primo’s. I’d argue it’s one of the best cinnamon rolls in all of Los Angeles.”

He puts his pen into his shirt pocket. “You know what? OK. I’d actually love a bite.”

I hand him the box. He picks off a small piece.

“Oh, come on,” I say. “Take a real piece.”

Henry laughs and takes a bigger piece. “I’m pretty sure this is How to Interact with Patients 101: Do Not Take Their Food.”

I laugh. “Nobody’s perfect.”

“No,” he says, chewing. “I suppose not.” And then he adds, “Damn, that’s good.”

“Right? I don’t want to brag, but I consider myself a cinnamon roll connoisseur.”

“I’m starting to believe it,” he says.

“Maybe I should start dropping hints to my visitors that I want more cinnamon rolls. I can probably get us a pretty good stash.”

“Tempting,” he says. “You feeling OK?”

The minute he says it, I remember who we really are, why we are really here, and I fall back down to earth just the littlest bit.

“Yeah,” I say. “I am. Each day feels a little bit better.”

“Think you’ll feel ready to get into the wheelchair tomorrow? It can be painful, moving around for the first time, being lifted, all of that. You up for it?”

“Are you kidding me? I’m up for anything.”

“Yeah,” he says. “That’s what I thought.”

He heads toward the door and then stops. “If you love cinnamon rolls as much as I do, then I’ll bet you also love churros. Have you had a churro?”

I give him an indignant look. “Are you kidding me? HaveIhad a churro? I’m from Los Angeles. I’ve had a churro.”

“Oh, well, excuse me... Sassypants.”

I start laughing. “Sassypants?”

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