With This Heart(13)

“             Fat cats             ,” I repeated for emphasis.

“             So, what about when you cause people to have good days?” Beck mentioned.

I nodded into the darkness and thought about that idea for a little while.

“             One time, when I was young, I was in the hospital for some check-up or something. I was walking down the hallway with a teddy bear in my arm that was pretty much my best friend and sole confidant at that age.”

I made sure to leave out any details about my old disease while describing my visit.

“             Seems like a respectable type of bear,” he said.

“             He was. The best kind,” I said. “Anyway, I was in the hospital and a little girl was being carted down the hallway next to me on a hospital bed that swallowed her up— it was so big. I thought she was the same age as me because she looked about my size. I didn’t know where they were taking her, but for this really long expanse of hallway, our eyes locked and we just stared at each other. I can’t remember what I saw in her eyes, but even as a kid I knew she had it worse than I did. I was walking, holding onto my teddy bear and my mom’s hand, and she was being carted by some nurse to god knows where.”

“             You gave her that bear didn’t you?”

“             Yes. Right before she was pushed into the elevator. I remember sort of half tossing, half tripping in my journey to get to her.”

“             Were you sad that you gave up your best friend? Or just happy that you made someone’s day less worse?”

“             Probably neither. I was too young to even realize what I was actually doing.”

“             I wonder what that bear is doing now...”

“             He’s probably a fat cat,” I quipped.

He laughed a deep rumbling laugh that was too good for this earth.

“             What’s your full name, Abby?” he asked out of the blue.

“             Abby Mae McAllister.”

“             Well Abby Mae… it’s now 3:08 in the morning.”

“             That’s late,” I said.

“             Early,” he corrected.

“             What’s yours?”

“             Beckham Dilan Prescott.”

What a fancy name. Much better than Abby Mae.

“             Well Beck             ham             , we should go to bed,” I declared, because it seemed like he wanted to hang up. I could’ve talked for the rest of my life.

“             You’re right. Morning, Abby.”

I smiled at his joke. “Morning, Beck.”



After I’d hung up, I stared at the phone screen in a daze.             Beckham Dilan Prescott             , I repeated out loud.

…



Caroline was still in the hospital on Wednesday, which rendered our coffee shop idea null and void. Instead, I picked up two hot chocolates and a piece of lemon pound cake from Starbucks on my way to the hospital. It seemed like a shitty alternative, but at least it was             something             .

Caroline deserved a freaking normal Starbucks experience.

On a whim, I drove past the hospital and headed toward the mall to find one of those candle stores. I hadn’t actually been to the mall in years, it always seemed like too much of an undertaking, but there I was, meandering through housewives and pushy sales people.             No, I don’t want to try your hand cream or hair straightener, I just want to get my cancerific friend a candle.