“Yes?”
“What did you think of the show?”
“We loved it,” he says. “You know, my grandmother in Kansas died of COVID in her assisted living facility. She was all alone. My grandfather had passed, and her children and grandchildren weren’t nearby. Her favorite TV show wasThe Golden Girls. I’d never seen it before, but I started Zooming her every weekend during COVID, and we watched it together as a way to not be all alone. Even when she was dying—when she wasn’t conscious—I’d call, have the nurses turn on the show and we’d still watch it together. And for a half hour, everything was okay.”
The doctor stands and takes a step toward me.
“You keep living, Mr. Copeland, to have moments just like that,” he continues. “You keep fighting to live, Mr. Copeland, not just for yourself but for those who love and need you.”
I inhale sharply.
“Are you a sports fan?” he asks.
“Do I look like a sports fan?”
Finally, my doctor laughs.
“There’s an old saying in sports: The longer you stay in the game, the more chance you have to win.”
“Meaning?”
“You give up, and the game is over before it’s even been decided.”
He gives me a handful of pamphlets and a printout of his suggested next steps.
I nod and open the door.
“You will need to stop drinking if you decide to have the surgery,” he says. “Your blood work could be better.”
“You mean, my blood work could be a martini.”
I exit and walk down the long corridor toward the exit sign.
Behind me, the doctor calls, “I don’t think red is your color.”
“Nowyou’re funny?” I yell without turning back.
Ron
“Welcome to Palm Springs!” I say to a woman boarding the double-decker bus. She is sporting a sun visor, her face slathered in zinc.
“Ah!” Teddy screams when he turns and sees her. “An apparition!”
Teddy tentatively pokes the woman’s shoulder.
“Ah!” he screams again. “You’re real! That’s even scarier.”
“The heat is bothering him, ma’am,” I say quickly to cover. “Please have a seat and enjoy the tour.
“Can’t you be nice for one day?” I hiss into Teddy’s ear. “I can’t believe you!”
“And I can’t believe you talked us into doing this,” Teddy says. “I’m not under court-ordered community service to be kind to the locusts who swarm our town for Mid-Century Modern Week.”
I glare at him, but he continues unbridled.
“I swore I would kill myself before I stepped foot onto this... this...” Teddy glances around the top of the double-decker bus “...thisHindenburg equivalent of a pedal pub party bike for old people. At least bachelorette parties have the dignity to get drunk while everyone ridicules the spectacle of them riding all over town looking like idiots.”
“Lest I need to remind you, dear Teddy,weare old people.”
