Page 72 of Maybe in Another Life

He nods, and away we go.

I’m outside of my room! I’m moving!

Some doctors and nurses stand outside a room or two, but for the most part, the halls are empty. It’s also quiet except for the occasional regulatory beeping.

But I feel as if I’m flying down a California freeway with the top down.

“Favorite movie,” I say as we make our way around one of the many corners of the hospital.

“The Godfather,” he says with confidence.

“Boring answer,” I tell him.

“What? Why?”

“Because it’s obvious. Everyone lovesThe Godfather.”

“Well, sorry,” he says to me. “I can’t love a different movie just because everyone loves the movie I love.”

I turn back to look at him. He makes a face at me. “The heart wants what it wants, I guess,” I say.

“I guess,” he says. “You?”

“Don’t have one,” I say.

Henry laughs. “You can’t make me pick one if you don’t have one.”

“Why not? It’s a fair question. I just don’t happen to have an answer.”

“Just pick one at random. One you like.”

“That’s the problem. My answer is always changing. Sometimes I think my favorite movie isThe Princess Bride. But then I think, no,Toy Storyis obviously the best movie of all time. And then, other times, I’m convinced that no movie will ever be as good asLost in Translation.I can never decide.”

“You think too much,” he says. “That’s your problem. You’re trying too hard to find the perfect answer whenananswerwill do.”

“What do you mean?” I ask. We’re stopped in front of a soda vending machine, but this isn’t what I meant. “Wait, I meant a snack machine. Not a Coke machine.”

“My apologies, Queen Hannah of the Hallway,” he says, and pushes us forward. “If someone asks you your favorite movie, just sayThe Princess Bride.”

“But sometimes I’m not sure itismy favorite movie.”

“But it will do, is what I’m saying. It’s like when I asked you what kind of pudding you liked, and you named all three flavors. Just pick a flavor. You don’t need to find the perfect thing all the time. Just find one that works, and go with it. If you had, we’d be on to favorite colors by now.”

“Your favorite color is navy blue,” I say.

“Yep,” he says. “But you can tell that from my scrubs, so you haven’t convinced me you’re telepathic.”

“What’s mine?” I ask him. I can see a vending machine at the end of the hall. I also really hope Henry has money, because I didn’t bring any.

“I don’t know,” he says. “But I bet you it’s between two colors.”

I roll my eyes at him, but he can’t see me. He’s right. That’s what’s frustrating.

“Purple and yellow,” I say.

“Let me guess,” he says in a teasing voice. “Sometimes you like yellow, but then, when you see purple, you think maybe that’s your favorite.”

“Oh, shut up,” I say. “They are both pretty colors.”

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