Page 31 of Lessons in Lemonade

“I do appreciate it.” He gives me the tiniest of smiles, and I smile back large enough for the both of us then move down the bed to grab the gown.

“Come on, let me help you,” I say in a slightly cheerful tone.

He lets out a deep breath then leans forward, reaches behind his head, and pulls off the Tarpons hoodie he’s wearing. His dark hair sticks up straight, there’s a light smattering of scruff across his face and neck, and I’m presented with the most beautiful man I have ever seen. I know now is not the time, but it’s hard not to notice how perfectly sculpted he is from the prominent line of his collarbone down to his trim waist.

I want to curl into him and have his arms wrap around me, and without thinking, I reach up and run my hand from his shoulder down over his warm skin. He grabs my wrist, stopping it over his heart. Our eyes lock, and flutters make themselves known within me. In another place at another time, this might be a charged moment, but here it’s just an intimate understanding between two people sharing an unfortunate experience.

“It’s gonna be all right. You know this,” I whisper.

“There’s nothing I can do about it now,” he says, frowning, accepting the fact he has no control over this situation.

“Nope. Now we just ride the wave until we get to the shore.”

“I guess so.”

With his other hand, he reaches for my waist and brings me closer. Leaning over him, I place my forehead on his and watch as his eyes slip shut, his nostrils flaring as he breathes in and out.

This guy . . . he’s so tragically, devastatingly handsome. My heart clenches in my chest, and being this close to him, I forget how much I hate hospitals and decide it’s really nice getting to be affectionate with him. All it took was two simple interactions, Thanksgiving and this, and he’s familiar to me in a way no one has ever been.

Minutes pass until I feel the need to shake off the tender way my heart is reacting toward him, and I pull back, smile, and hold up the gown. He slips his arms into it, and I tie it behind his neck. From underneath the gown, he yanks on his shorts, which I pull down and carefully slide over his legs, and then he flips the side of the gown up and looks at the compression shorts.

“I think you’re going to need to cut these off.”

I think he’s right.

Looking around the room, I find a pair of surgical scissors next to the sink then carefully cut up the thigh of each of his legs. He pulls them off, hands them to me, and I throw them away as he not so subtly adjusts himself under the gown.

“All set now.” I grin to attempt to keep the mood light. It doesn’t work; he just stares blankly, clearly lost in his own thoughts.

Overhead, the air conditioning kicks on, and a hum settles around us. I climb up on the edge of his bed to sit, and he shifts a little to give me more room.

“What if I never play again?” he asks, his voice so somber.

The vulnerability in him is so palpable and so real it’s creating a thickness around us, and I just want to blow it all away, want to clear the air and thin it out so he can breathe a little easier.

Reaching over, I lay my hand on his arm and gently run it up and down. “Then it’s time for a new adventure. You’ll be all right—no, you’ll be better than all right. You’ll be just fine and dandy.” I push optimism and confidence his way, smiling to try to ease his aching heart. I know right now he feels like there’s no silver lining and nowhere to go, but I have faith that eventually he’ll pull through.

Instead of responding, he sits up, his hands find my waist, and he yanks me closer then lays his head on my shoulder. My arms wrap around him, and I hold him to me until it’s time for him to go. His eyes lock onto mine when he’s about to pass through the door, and they’re pleading for this not to be happening, even though it is. I stand strong and reassure him I’ll be here when he gets back, and then he’s gone.

God, this sucks.

I’m left standing in the room with the nurse, and she turns to look at me. I’m clutching his hoodie, and she pats me on the arm.

“Don’t worry, dear, he’ll be fine.”

“I know. Thank you.”

And I do. After all, it’s just a knee surgery. Maybe a complicated one based on what they find, but in no way life-threatening . . . just life-changing.

“Of course you know you’re welcome to stay here to wait for him, but if you get hungry, you should head on down to the cafeteria. I promise the food isn’t all that bad, and since it’s breakfast time, you should definitely get the hash brown casserole. It’s delicious.” She gives me a wink and then she’s gone, too.

Anxiety drips back in now that I’m alone. It’s silent except for the noises coming from beyond the door, and I eye the chair in the corner. It’s eerily similar to the ones in the chemotherapy infusion centers, but at least there the room was large and there were several patients present. Here, I’m left alone with my thoughts, and I don’t like it. Then, as if the universe understands, sunlight breaks through the cracks in the blinds and floods the room, reminding me that I made a choice years ago to always look on the bright side instead of falling down the rabbit hole.

Settling into the chair, I begin thinking about all the good things in my life, the simple things that bring me joy, starting with his hoodie. I slip it on; it swallows me in size, and it smells so much like him I want to drown in it. It’s a little bit of sweat, but mostly a sporty scent mixed with citrus, and it smells so good. I instantly feel better already.

I may not be able to control what’s going on around me, but I can control what I choose to focus on, and right now, I can’t think of anything better than him.

My best friend.