“Did he pay?” Samira asked.
“Yes, but—”
“No buts,” Vera interrupted. “That’s a date, and he told Jerome, who told Lee.”
“Who in the hell are Jerome and Lee?” I snapped.
“Jerome is Weston’s assistant coach, and Lee owns the diner you went to the other night,” Miri said, her voice growing hoarser. “Lee and Weston are good friends.”
“Oh, who are we kidding: Weston is good friends with everyone in town,” Samira said.
“Regardless, it wasn’t a date. We talked about basketball and ...” My cheeks flushed. I could feel them burning while these women stared at me with the same raised-eyebrow expression. I rolled my eyes and threw my hands up in the air.
“It wasn’t a date,” I tried to reiterate, but my voice failed me.
“He likes you,” Samira said. “I can see it in his eyes when he’s talking to you. He doesn’t sit with just anyone at breakfast—mostly Jerome, or he takes his food to go.”
“He’s being a good friend,” I countered.
“Or he’s flirting with you,” Vera said.
“Oh, he’s definitely flirting,” Samira said. “I see the way he looks at her during breakfast.”
I shook my head and glanced at Miri for some help, but she was almost asleep again. I thought about asking Samira and Vera to leave, but I figured they needed to spend time with her, whether she was awake or not.
It’d been so long since someone had flirted with me. I honestly didn’t know what to even look for. Other than Brendan, I hadn’t paid attention to another man in a long time.
I bit my lower lip, now wondering how many other signs I had missed.
“He’ll ask you out again,” Samira said, pulling me from my thoughts.
“The timing isn’t good,” I told her. “Miri and the kids are my focus right now.”
“Weston knows this. He wants to be there for you and the kids.”
“As a friend. That’s all I can take right now.”
The ladies nodded, but they had a little smirk playing on their lips, and something deep down told me this conversation was far from over.
By midweek, the news wasn’t good, and even though I’d expected that, it still tore me to pieces on the inside.
“Yesterday’s scans show the cancer has spread,” Dr. Frederick said. “It was our goal to keep the clusters contained, but we’ve been unsuccessful.” He rested his hand on Miri’s leg in what I’d come to see as a comforting gesture. For the little time I’d known this doctor, he’d had an impeccable bedside manner.
Miri and I said nothing after he’d left. What was there to be said? She already knew I was sorry and willing to do whatever I had to fight for her survival, but even the doctors in the best hospital had said there wasn’t much to be done.
I crawled into bed and held Miri as she cried. She clutched my blouse, her tears wetting the fabric, while my own fell onto the top of her hair. For a moment, I thought that my tears could save her, that they held the cure she needed. But even in my own fantasy world, I knew that was too far fetched to be believable.
Hope was futile. It no longer existed. Not that it ever did, but in the back of my mind, I hoped for a miracle, for all of this to be a nightmare, for Miri to wake up and be free of this horrible disease that had festered in her body until it was too late to do anything about it.
One of the nurses came in. She smiled softly as she completed her tasks, pressing buttons, reading printouts, and preparing to inject Miri with more drugs.
“No,” Miri said croakily. “I’m done.”
“Miriam ...” The nurse trailed off.
“You heard her,” I said as I shook my head. “She’s done.”
The nurse nodded and backed away. I heard the door click closed softly.
