“Nonsense,” she says. “I’ll order some pasta and salad. Greg, do you like pasta?”
He looks to me for the answer. “Yes?”
My cell phone rings then. David.
“Excuse me,” I tell the group, which now includes Frederick, who is looking over Jill’s shoulder at her phone.
“Hey,” I say. “God, David, this is a nightmare.”
“I imagine. How was she this morning?”
“Her parents are here.”
“Jill and Maurice?”
“Frederick, yes.”
“Wow,” he says. “Good for them, I guess. Better they be there than not, right?”
I don’t respond, and David tries again. “Do you want me to come sit with you?”
“No,” I say. “I told you. One of us has to keep our job.”
“The firm understands,” David says, even though we both know that’s not true. I didn’t tell anyone about Bella’s illness, but even if I did, they would be supportive as long as it didn’t get in the way of my work. Wachtell isn’t a charity.
“I brought a ton of work with me. I just told them I’m working remotely today.”
“I’ll come by at lunch.”
“Call me,” I say, and we hang up.
I sit back down in my chair. “There’s a free latte,” Aaron says, handing me a Starbucks. “I forgot to make Jill’s nonfat.”
“How could you,” I say in mock horror, and Aaron chuckles. It feels wrong here, that sound of joy.
“I guess I was a little focused on my girlfriend’s cancer.” He gives me an exaggerated headshake. “How dare I.”
Now I’m the one to laugh.
“Do you think this counts as blowing it with her parents?”
“There’s always the chemo,” I say. And now we’re both in hysterics. A woman knitting a few chairs over from us looks up, annoyed. I can’t help it, though. It feels nearly impossible to get any air, that’s how hard we’re laughing.
“Radiation,” he says, gasping.
“Third time’s a charm.”
It’s Frederick’s stern look that sends us up and out of our seats, sprinting toward the door.
When we’re in the hallway, I take big, gulping breathes. It feels like I haven’t had air in a week.
“We’re going outside,” he says. “You have your cell phone?”
I nod.
“Good. Yours is the update phone. I made sure on the chart.”
We head down the elevators and the double doors spit us out onto the street. There’s a park across the way. Small children dangle from swings, surrounded by planted trees. Nannies and parents bark into their cell phones.
