I shake my head, trying not to smile at the tiny woman tucked under hospital sheets. Her skin is lined with years and her silver hair is just as stubborn as she is. So it’s no surprise that she is enjoying some top tier reality tv.
I’ve worked at Centennial Memorial Hospital for ten years now. Started here fresh out of college, barely confident enough to speak up during rounds. Now I’m the Hospital Nursing Administrator, running the very floors I used to tiptoe across.
And somehow, despite everything—long shifts, board meetings, emergency calls—I always find my way back to the geriatric wing. It’s peaceful here. And this month’s VIP guest is Ms. Lilly Rose.
Yes,thatRose.
As inRose Wines. The oldest Black-owned wine brand founded in the South. Her family settled in Cinnamon Grove over twenty years ago, practically built the foundation this town rests on. And Ms. Lilly Rose is the queen.
She had a hip replacement last month, and her recovery’s been slow. But I don’t mind. Somehow, in the madness that goes on between these hospital walls, we’ve become something like friends. She gets me.
I toe off my shoes and climb into the bed beside her like I’ve done a dozen times before.
“So,” I say, resting my shoulder gently against hers. “What’s going on with these crazy couples this week, Ms. Lilly?”
She pats my hand before reaching for the remote to lower the volume. “You’d better be glad a commercial’s on.”
SightUnseenis the latest reality show to have the entire country in a chokehold. The concept? Total strangers talk through a wall for a week, never laying eyes on each other. And if they “connect,” they get engaged. Then married. Most of their entire courtship happening before they’ve even seen each other’s faces.
Personally, I think it’s a terrible idea. But like the millions of others across the country, I can’t stop watching. Especially since so many of this season’s couples are from Cinnamon Grove.
“Yeah, yeah,” I say, grinning. “I know how you get all mesmerized by those strapping young men.”
“That’s right!” she snaps, full of sass. “Soon as this hip gets right, I’m getting me one of them young men. Mark my words.”
We both crack up, because if there’s one thing Ms. Lilly Rose doesnotpretend to be, it’s shy. The woman has made it abundantly clear on several occasions that she is a feminist and a freak who was shaped by the 70’s. Which means she has absolutely zero shame. And we love her all the more for it.
“Those men wouldn’t know what to do with you, Ms. Lilly Rose.”
She tilts her chin. “I tell you what, that girl on the show better figure out what to do with that Chance beforeIshow her.”
I gasp, laughing. “Wait,whichone is Chance, again?”
“He’s the beautiful one who married the girl even after she said she wasn’t really into him.”
“Oh,him! And we all knew that girl wasn’t right for him. She only said yes because the man shereallywanted, picked somebody else.”
“Mmm hmm.” She nods. “These young girls don’t know what they’re missing. That man isfine, and hecooks!”
“I saw the episode where he made her gumbo and she turned her nose up at it!”
Ms. Lilly throws her head back, laughing.
“What’s so funny?”
She wipes a tear from the corner of her eye and leans in. “Baby, theonlything I’d be turning up for that man is thistail, you hear me?”
“Ms. Lilly Rose!” I squeal, fanning myself like I’m scandalized, even though I’m anything but.
When I was a nurse practitioner on the floor, I got to actuallyseepeople. Talk to them. Learn their stories. I’d come in after my shift and find Christmas cards taped to my locker, or a box of Valentine’s chocolates from a grateful family—even from the families who didn’t get to take their loved ones home. Those times made the job worthwhile.
These days, I mostly sit in boardrooms and shuffle through budgets and performance metrics. The only patients I see frequently are the ones labeledVIP. The ones we bend over backwards to keep happy because they donate obscene amounts of money to the hospital or know someone who does.
I missconnecting, really connecting, with people. And some days, I wonder if I traded the one thing I loved most for a title that keeps me locked behind a desk.
I mean, the money isn’t so bad either.
I wipe a tear from the corner of my eye, quietly thankful for these unfiltered moments with Ms. Lilly.
