Page 65 of At His Beck & Call

Will he miss me on Monday and Tuesday? Or will he forget all about me and just replace me with another EA?

The memory of our time in his office makes me sick to my stomach, angry with myself for trying to overstep a clear boundary he had set.

The discomfort on his face when I tried to touch him isn’t something I’ll forget for a long time.

Rising from my chair beside the bed and stretching, I can feel a tickling dryness at the back of my throat and go in search of the cafeteria. I’ve received three or four texts from James over the past few hours, demanding to know the particulars of the surgery and the schedule of his visits.

I replied with perfunctory, clinical language, but every message made my anxiety spike.

I know James too well to believe I’ll be able to avoid him completely, but I’ll do everything I can to make sure Henry gets time with his father. It’s important, no matter how much I hate it.

Wandering down the long, white hallways, I see a sign showing the way to a cafeteria on the fourth floor. Checking the time, I give myself fifteen minutes before I need to go back to Henry’s room. He was passed out completely when I left, and I doubt he’ll wake up, but I don’t want to risk him finding himself alone again.

I find the cafeteria and get in line. The woman ahead of me leans heavily on a walker as she waits to reach the register.

I stand behind her, texting with Bethany. She’s messaged twenty or thirty times today with cheerful memes, happy gifs, and love hearts for Henry, and I’ve never loved her more. She was trying to cheer me up, keep me thinking positively, as Henry was poked and prodded all day.

There’s a clatter in front of me as the woman with the walker tries to pick up a tray, and it slips from her hand.

“Let me get that for you,” I say, as I step around her and grab the tray.

“Oh goodness,” she says hastily. “Sorry about that.”

“Want some help getting your food?” I ask, eyeing the walker.

She smiles and nods at me. “That would be helpful, but I was only really wanting some warm milk.”

“I’m just getting a drink too, let me give you a hand.”

“Thank you so much, dear.”

We move along the line as I order an herbal tea for myself and some steamed milk for my companion, who tells me her name is Anne.

As we grab our drinks, I turn toward the tables in the room. There are several empty ones, and a lull in the conversation suddenly creates a calm, soothing atmosphere.

“I’ve got a few minutes; do you want to sit together?” I ask, relishing the chance to have an adult conversation with this sweet grandmotherly woman.

Henry’s room does have windows, but the harsh lighting has given me a bit of a headache, and I already feel as if I’ve been in the hospital for days. The large windows on the other side of the cafeteria look out on the back of the hospital, where I can see the shadowy trees blowing in the wind, illuminated by the lights in the parking lot.

“That would be nice, thank you, dear,” Anne says as we take our seats, and I hand her her milk.

“What are you in for?” she asks darkly, as if we’ve been incarcerated. I chuckle despite myself.

“Oh, uh, my son is having surgery this coming week,” I say, blowing on my extremely hot tea.

“Oh wow,” she says softly. “I hope everything goes well.”

“Thank you. He’s in good hands. How about you?” I ask, hoping she doesn’t ask any more questions about Henry—my frayed nerves can’t stand any more reminders of what’s about to happen to him.

“I had a silly fall”, she says with exasperation. “I’ve got a son, much older than yours, and he’s making an awful fuss. As are thedoctors. I just want to be in my bed at home. There’s no one to talk to here, except the nurses, and it’s all very unnecessary.”

“It can feel pretty lonely, can’t it?” I say, as she sips her milk. She nods and swallows, closing her eyes with a little sigh of contentment.

“How old is your son?” she asks.

“Six. Seven in August.”

“What a brave little boy.”