Penelope laughs and hits me playfully with an open palm on my shoulder. She immediately regrets her action. “I’msosorry. I can’t believe I just hit you.”
“Don’t worry about it,” I say. “My massive pectoral shielded the blow.” I flex my chest for her.
“You are such a dork,” she says. “But seriously, I can’t believe I just hit a patient. I’m out of control.”
“You know, now that I think about it, you’re right. What you did was terrible . . . almost unforgivable. So, to make it up to me, I think you should let me cook for you.”
She frowns and looks at me, tilting her head. “Shouldn’t I be the one cooking you dinner to make it up to you?”
I shake my head. “Nope. By letting me cook for you, you’d be doing me a favor. I love cooking for people. There’s nothing like seeing someone’s mood change instantly after taking a bite of your food.”
“It’s funny,” she says, “I had an ex-boyfriend who liked to cook, but he never put it like that. It was more about showing off his culinary skills than serving others.”
I feel a warm glow inside. It’s the first time she’s shared something this personal with me.
“So, how about it?”
She looks down and sighs. Not the reaction I hoped for. “I’m really sorry, but I’m not looking to date anybody right now.”
“Date? Who said anything about dating? It’ll just be dinner.” I say these words with a smile, but my heart cracks right down the middle.
She crinkles her nose apologetically. I can tell before she speaks it’s still a no.
“Sorry. ButI hope we can still have our chats. You’re actually a lot of fun to talk to.”
“Of course we can,” I say, forcing myself to sound cheerful. “I like talking to you too.”
“Okay, great,” Penelope says, standing up. “I should get back to work. And you should get some rest, mister.”
“See you.”
“Bye.”
She leaves me with my thoughts. I was sure she’d say yes. I thought we had a connection. Was it just my imagination?
Maybe I just needed a distraction from the real issues. I almost died. I was drunk on the job. Those two facts alone are a doozy. I don’t like thinking about either one of ’em.
I should try and get some rest. As I close my eyes the door opens again. Penelope’s back and she looks troubled.
“Hey,” she says, “I have something to tell you.”
She holds up a bottle of water and a little plastic fruit cup. “You’ll want to stay hydrated,” she says, placing them on the little tray next to my bed.
“That’s what you came here to tell me?”
Penelope looks down.“It’s about what I told you earlier. I lied. I don’t know why. I guess I was just avoiding a difficult topic. But I realize you deserve to know the truth.”
“The truth about what?”
“Well, I told you I wasn’t looking to date anyone at the moment, and that’s not exactly true.”
“It’s not?”
She shakes her head. “No. I am dating. When I have the time. Which isn’t very often. And you seem like a really great guy.”
“But . . . ”
“But I don’t date firefighters or police officers. Not anymore.”
