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“Okay, gentlemen, select your name.”
Henry and I each draw a folded piece of paper from the hat. I unfold mine, and then I think I stop breathing as I stare at the letters typed in bold black.
“Did you get your own name?”
I shake my head, and the woman moves on.
“Who’d you get?” he asks.
“We’re not supposed to say.” Fuck, I’m not even sure I can get the name to form on my tongue.
“Oh, fuck that. Tell me who you got.”
“J-Joy.”
“Seriously?” He smacks me on the back.
“Yeah.” I hold out the small slip of paper so Henry can verify that my mind isn’t playing tricks on me.
“Cool. You should buy her something sexy.”
I glance at him. “Are you sixteen?”
He snorts.
“We’re adults, Henry. And this is an office thing. I’ll get her something nice.”
“You need to make the first move to get into her pants.”
“Some days, I question your level on the maturity scale. For a guy who graduated with honors from an Ivy League school, you have the personality of a horny teenager.”
Henry raises his eyebrows and throws up his hands. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
I’m about to say more, but my cell phone rings. I pull it out of my pocket and see it’s my father. “I’m sorry, I have to take this. It’s probably about my mother.”
Henry sobers, knowing that my mother has been ill. He nods sympathetically. “You go ahead. I’ll pick up the gift for you.”
“Are you sure?”
“Not a problem.”
“Just make sure it’s tasteful.” I give him some cash and thank him as I hurry out of the room to find a quiet space to take the call.
An hour later, I’m sitting at Mom’s bedside in the hospital, holding her hand as the doctor updates me and Dad on her condition. She had a stroke two months ago that left her totally bedridden. I’d hoped for weeks that she’d improve, but we’re being told now that the likelihood of that happening is slim.
I glance over at Dad. His eyes are blurry with unshed tears. “I’ll help, Dad. We can move her to a home where she’ll be more comfortable. We can arrange for physical therapy.”
“It’s not that, son. I just hate seeing her like this.” His voice cracks.
Watching Dad crumble after Mom’s stroke has been one of the hardest things I’ve faced. He's always been a strong source of comfort for Mom and me. I wish I had the power to improve the situation.
2
Joy
I take one last look at my reflection in the bathroom mirror, making a few adjustments to my hair and touching up my lipstick.
“You look gorgeous, Joy.”
