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“And against HIPAA,” Casey added.
“…to talk to you in front of everyone like I did. I hope you can accept my humble apologies.”
“It’s fine,” I said, taking a deep breath. “My family is always mad at me, anyway. Maybe now they won’t be so crabby when I have to be in the same room with them.”
The rest of the night dragged as the IV infused. My poor roommates were exhausted, but they refused to leave me. At sunrise, they got me home and tucked into bed. Dale was taking a sick day to stay home with me, but Brian and Casey had to go back to the hospital to work their shifts.
I fell asleep as soon as I got into bed. At noon, the neighbor’s dog barking and the sound of a car in the driveway woke me, and when I moved the curtain aside, I saw a delivery truck. A minute later, Dale was at my door.
“Flowers for Miss Bella Roman. Bellabug.”
I told her to come in. The enormous bouquet obscured her face. “Oh my God. Who the hell is that from? If you say Skippy, I’m quitting my job.”
“You love Busy Bee. No, I don’t think it’s Skippy. It’s too nice. You can open the card.” She handed it to me while looking for a place to put the vase.
“Jeez, it’s really a monstrosity,” I said, grimacing. I hated the thought of all those beautiful flowers getting cut and then dying.
“Open the card, please. It’s making me nuts.”
I opened the envelope and slid out a beautiful card. It was probably something the sender had chosen from the florist, so I didn’t get too excited until I flipped it over and saw the words Detroit Institute of Art from the collection of Gustav Klimt notecards, Portraits of Women.
The card that had come with the beautiful flowers featured a portrait of Adele Bloch-Bauer, 1907.
Dear Miss Roman,
Thanks are hardly adequate. I don’t even know what to say, except thank you from the bottom of my heart for saving my life. I am forever indebted to you for your quick and sacrificial act.
Yours truly, Flynn Safadi
“Who sent them?”
I had forgotten that Dale was still in the room, waiting. An unfamiliar sense of intimacy made me want to keep the contents to myself, but she’d given up a sick day to stay with me, so I handed the card over. It was easier than having to read the words that had made me feel something I had never felt before.
I watched her silently read, her mouth moving. “Wow.”
I just nodded. Anything else I said would minimize how profound it was. This man had sent me something beautiful in acknowledgement that I had evidently saved his life.
“I’ll add the flower food that came with it to the water,” she said, handing me the card and turning away.
“Dale,” I called out when she got to the door. She turned around, waiting. “Thank you.”
“My pleasure, Bellabug.” She blew me a kiss. “I’ll bring you something to eat.”
“You don’t have to do that, Dale.”
“I want to. I want to take care of you.”
I understood. In nursing school, we had showered each other with care. I had always been so worried about my friends’ well-being that taking care of them had been number two in my list of priorities, number one being getting through school.
“Okay. Nothing hot.”
“Toast and iced coffee?”
“Perfect.”
“It’s thirty degrees out.”
“That’s warm,” I said, chuckling.
