Page 71 of Maybe in Another Life

“You know, while we’re here,” I say, “I really should make an appointment to get my teeth cleaned.”

Gabby laughs as we get into the elevator. She presses the button for the fifth floor, but it isn’t responding. The doors close, and we somehow end up going down to the lowest level of the garage. The doors open, and an elderly woman gets in. It takes her about thirty years.

Gabby and I smile politely, and then Gabby hits the fifth-floor button again, which now lights up, a bright and inviting orange.

“Which floor?” she asks the elderly lady.

“Three, please.”

We head up, and the door opens again on the floor we got in on. Gabby turns to me and rolls her eyes. “If I knew it was going to be ten stops on the elevator, I would have suggested we go eat first,” she whispers to me. I laugh.

And there is Mark.

Kissing a blond woman in a pencil skirt.

Gabby left at around ten tonight to go home to Mark. I haven’t seen Mark since I’ve been in the hospital. It’s not weird necessarily, because Mark and I were never particularly close. But it seems strange that Gabby is so often here on nights and lunch breaks and Mark hasn’t even stopped by. Gabby keeps saying that he’s been working late a lot. Apparently, he had to attend a dental conference in Anaheim this week. I don’t know much about the life of a dentist, but I always figured dentists were the kind of people who were home in time for dinner. I guess that’s not the case with Mark. Either way, his working benefits me greatly, since Gabby spends her time with me instead, which is really all I want anyway.

Since she left, I’ve just been reading the magazines she brought. I like these magazines much better than the British ones. Which is good, because I slept through most of the day today, so I know I won’t be tired for quite some time.

“I knew you’d be up,” Henry says when he comes into the room. He’s pushing a wheelchair.

“I thought you’d take the night off,” I say.

He shakes his head. “I went home this morning. Slept my eight hours, had some dinner, watched some TV. I got in a little while ago.”

“Oh,” I say.

“And I checked on all my other patients, and they are all sleeping and not in need of my assistance.”

“So... another lesson?” I ask.

“I’d call this more of an adventure.” He has a wild look in his eye. As if we are doing something we shouldn’t be doing. It’s exciting, the idea of doing something I shouldn’t be doing. All I’ve been doing is healing.

“All right!” I say. “Let’s do it. What do I need to do?”

He pulls the rail down on my bed. He moves my legs. We move the same way we moved this morning, only faster, easier, more familiar. I’m in the chair within a few seconds.

I look down, my legs in front of me, in the chair. Henry grabs my blanket and puts it in my lap.

“In case you get cold,” he says.

“And so I don’t flash anyone,” I say.

“Well, that, too, but I didn’t want to say it.” He stands behind me, attaches my morphine bag to my chair, and pushes me forward.

“Where are we going?” I ask.

“Anywhere we want,” he says.

We get out into the hallway.

“So?” he says. “Where first?”

“Cafeteria?” I say.

“Do you really want more cafeteria food?” he asks.

“Good point. How about a vending machine?” I offer.

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