Page 58 of Maybe in Another Life

“I tried that Find My Phone app,” Henry offers.

“Oh, that’s great!” I say.

“It said the phone is located at Angeles Presbyterian.”

I laugh. “How helpful,” I say.

“Well,” he says, “if you see it...”

“If I see it, I’ll ring my little nurse bell.”

“And I’ll come running,” he says.

Neither of us has anything left to say, and yet he doesn’t leave. He looks at me. We hold each other’s gaze for just a second longer than normal. I look away first. I’m distracted by a dull blueish light that starts flashing in a slow rhythm.

“Eureka!” he says.

I start laughing as he ducks down. When he pops back up with his phone, he’s not at the foot of the bed, where he was before. He’s by my side. “I knew I’d find it,” he says.

Instinctually, I find myself reaching out toward him, to touch him the way I might a friend. But I quickly remember that he’s not my friend, that to touch his arm or hand tenderly might be weird. So I pretend I’m going for a high-five. He smiles and enthusiastically claps my hand.

“Nice work,” I say.

For a moment, I wonder how things would be different if I could walk. And we weren’t in a hospital but in a bar somewhere. If I’d worn my favorite black shirt and tight jeans. I wonder how this all might be different if there was a beer in my hand, and the lights were low because people were dancing, not because people were sleeping.

Is it crazy to think he would say hello and introduce himself? Is it crazy to think he would ask me to dance?

“Anyway, I should be going,” he says. “But I’ll come check on you soon. I don’t like to go too many hours without making sure you’re still breathing.” And he leaves before I can say good-bye.

I don’t know. Maybe, just maybe, if Henry and I met at a dinner party, we’d spend the entire night talking, and when the night wound down, he’d offer to walk me to my car.

What is it?” Ethan asks me. “What’s the matter? Are you going to vomit again? What can I do?”

“No,” I say, slowly shaking my head. “I’m totally fine now.”

I got my period before I left for L.A. I remember getting it. I remember thinking that I was glad it ended a day sooner than normal. I remember that.I remember that.

“Totally good,” I tell him. “I think maybe those brussels sprouts are still messing with me.”

“OK,” he says. “Well, maybe we should head home.”

I shake my head. “Nope,” I tell him. “Let’s hang out until we can go talk to the vet about Charlemagne.”

“You’re sure?”

I look at my phone. I want to run out of here and buy a pregnancy test, but there is no way I could just up and ditch Ethan without him asking what is going on. And I can’t share this with him. I can’t even bring up the possibility until it’s no longer simply a possibility.

“All right,” he says. “If you really are feeling OK.”

“I am.” The lying begins.

“I’ll head out first,” he says. “Just so no one thinks we were doin’ it in here.”

His joke catches me off guard, and I find myself laughing out loud. “OK,” I say, smiling.

He ducks out, and I stay in the bathroom for a minute.

I breathe in and out, trying to control my brain and my body. And then I pick up my phone and Google the one thing that could convince me I’m wrong about this. The one piece of evidence I have that maybe I’m not pregnant.

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