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“All right, but don’t slip up and call me Stewart when you get back in there. I need her to find out my way.”
“You got it.”
Amos calls Quintessa to let her know we’re back. She comes to the waiting room shortly thereafter. I can tell she’s been crying again. Her eyes are glossed with weariness. Sadness. She’s had a rough day and it’s only half over. I’ve never seen her like this. I want to pull her close to me and relieve her of all the angst she’s feeling along with what she probably felt back then. I learned from Amos that Quintessa was heartbroken when she left for college. I wish I could go back and fix that, too.
Amos says, “Hey, Quin. How is she?”
“She’s talking…being her normal self.”
“And how are you?” I cut in to ask her.
She studies me as if she doesn’t understand why I’m asking. She finally responds, “I’m okay.”
She glances over at her father, then back at me.
I ask, “Can you sit with me in the cafeteria and eat?”
“Um…”
“Go ahead, dear,” Amos tells her. “You should eat. I’ll go sit with your mom and let her nibble on this chicken.”
Quintessa chuckles. “Dad, you can’t be giving mom no chicken up in here. I’m sure they only want her to sip on broth or something bland and tasteless.”
“If I go in that room eating this good chicken, you know she’s going to ask for some. Who’s gon’ know, anyway?”
She kisses her father on the cheek. “Okay. I’ll be right back, and if I’m not back, come looking for me, Dad.”
I laugh. “There will be no need for that. Your father knows you’re in good hands. Ain’t that right, Amos?”
“That’s right,” he answers.
“Oh. Y’all on a first-name basis now?”
Her father grins and heads down the hallway to his wife’s room.
With Quintessa by my side, we follow the signs to the cafeteria. I’m delighted to see the area is not crowded when we arrive and I’m able to lead us to a table in the corner where we get comfortable – well as comfortable as we can be given the situation.
Quintessa says, “So, what do you have for me since you didn’t ask what I wanted.”
“I don’t need to ask. I know what you like.”
“Are you sure about that?”
I remove the containers from the bag. She opens it and says, “Ooh….cheesesteak.”
“See—I know what you like.”
“Mmm hmm…” she says after taking a bite. “So, tell me—what were you and my father talking about?”
“What happens in the Ferrari stays in the Ferrari.”
“Oh, come on. Skip all that ‘bro code’ nonsense. This is my father we’re talking about.”
“I get that, but I won’t tell you what we talked about. We were talking man-to-man.”
She frowns. “About me?”
“Tess…”
