“Holy crap. Is he going to be okay?” I said, referring to Landon, who was doubled over on the ice.
“Yeah, he got taken out pretty hard.” She giggled as they showed the replay again.
“It’s a little sadistic that you enjoy when people get hit like that.”
“I spend all day in the ER with death and dying. I’ve got to get my release somewhere.” She sighed. “I wish Dustin LeBlanc would show up inourhospital at some point.”
“I don’t really follow hockey, but isn’t he a huge dick?”
“Obviously! He just punched that guy in the face. But I guess you hope that a guy like that can becomeyourhuge dick, you know?”
I furrowed my brow. “I think I get what you’re going for, but I’m not sure that sounds how you want it to sound.”
“I bet he’d look really goodsansshirt.” Pheobe laughed. “Sorry, you called me and I hijacked the conversation. What’s up? Tough shift?”
“A good shift. A great one, actually. One of my patient’s scans came back cancer free so I got to break the news that they’re now in remission,” I said.
“That’s terrific!”
“But then I was notified that my visa had expired.”
“What the hell? How is that even possible?”
“That’s what I thought!”
“So annoying. Can we get it sorted out before the weekend? It’s probably just a paperwork mixup. Happens all the time with government stuff, right?”
“I don’t think I’m conveying the seriousness of the situation. I’m being sent out of the country. I have ten days left.”
She was silent.
“Phoebe?”
“Sorry. I just put you on mute to swear. This is absolute bullshit!”
“I know.”
“So does this mean you’re not going to theCancer Sucks Conferencethis weekend?”
I rubbed the back of my neck. The Cancer Sucks Conference—the CSC—was the most fun we had all year. There would be celebrities, golf, dancing, dinners, and inspiring feel-good speeches throughout the weekend. I was supposed to give one this year, in fact.
“Come on! Youhave togo! Maybe we’ll like, be able to solve this visa issue.”
I laughed loudly. “In Vegas?”
She shrugged. “You could get married. Wouldn’t that fix your visa problem?”
I rubbed the bottom of the locket my dad gave me when I was six, before he was diagnosed with cancer. The act of rubbing it had always been soothing to me. “Don’t be ridiculous. I haven’t even slept with a man in nine months. Let alone have any marriage prospects.”
“There will be lots of cute guys there. Celebrities.”
I watched as the TV showed one more replay of Dustin LeBlanc punching his opponent in the face. “I mean, I guess I’ve got to go, don’t I?”
“It’ll be a last hurrah. We’ll have to get crazy. I’ve entered us in the celebrity golf outing on Saturday, so pack something cute but athletic-y.”
“Anything for you, Phoebes.”
CHAPTER 2
