Heart the Lover (39)

Something happens on the TV that isn’t good and the guys in the hospital room are grumbling.



‘There was a ridiculous line down there,’ someone says behind me, coming through the door.

My body tenses before my mind catches up.

Sam.

‘All the residents and interns who haven’t slept for days needing another hit,’ he says.

I have a strong impulse to pull my hand out of Yash’s.

A coffee in each hand, he rounds the corner at the foot of Yash’s bed and goes around to his other side. I notice a chair there in the corner, a backpack beside it. That is his spot. I didn’t see it earlier. He places the cups on the cluttered tray attached to the railing on his side. Without looking up, he collects the bunched napkins, empty straw sheaths, and to-go containers and tosses them in a bin behind him. He plucks a tissue from the bedside table, dips it into a cup of water, and wipes down the tray, lifting the new cups of coffee one at a time to clean under them, too.

Yash holds my hand tighter. He can tell I want to let go, not get caught. ‘What’s happening?’ Sam says, and looks right at me.

He has aged, but not all that much. Same hazel eyes. Same small grin.

‘Oh, wow. Jordan,’ he says.

He comes back around to my side and I get up.

We hug. I can feel him shaking.



‘It’s so good you came,’ he says.

We turn at the same time to look at Yash. He is beaming.

On the TV someone scores and there is cheering. Yash tries to sit up straighter, which pulls the cannula out of his nose, and Sam and I reach to adjust it. Yash takes my hand again.

‘Do you want more ice?’ Sam says, jiggling Yash’s oversized plastic cup.

‘No, no. Sit and watch the end of the game.’

Sam sits in his chair in the corner. His head tips back against the wall. He’s looking at the TV but not watching it. Within seconds his eyes shut.

‘Do you know he has slept here every night for a week?’ Yash says. ‘Apparently I called him in the middle of the night speaking gibberish. He knew it was my oxygen. He drove over and brought me here. They said I would have died if he hadn’t. Every night they set up a little cot for him right there at the foot of my bed.’ He shakes his head, giving up on words. Water rises in his eyes then recedes. ‘He’s been such a friend to me, Hink.’

Sam’s boys come in and go around to their father’s chair. The younger one pushes his way in between Sam’s knees, tugs gently on his sleeve. ‘Dad.’

Sam startles. Opens his eyes.

‘Mom’s here.’

‘Okay. Okay. Get your bags.’



‘We have them.’ They both have backpacks on their shoulders.

Sam nods. He stands and hugs them. The older one is taller than him. ‘Are your uniforms at Mom’s?’

They say they are and turn to Yash.

‘Goodbye, tadpoles,’ Yash says.

‘Goodbye, toad,’ the older one says.

The younger one opens his mouth but nothing comes out. His brave face collapses. He bends over the railing and lays his head on Yash’s chest. Yash strokes his hair.

‘We can’t come tomorrow,’ the bigger one says.

‘Then I’ll see you Sunday,’ Yash says. ‘I’ll be right here. Okay?’

The little one straightens up.

‘You get your science quiz back yet?’

He nods.

‘And?’

‘Ninety-eight.’

‘I told you. Did I not tell you?’

He nods again and follows his brother out.

I’ve never known anything about Sam’s children or Yash’s relationship with them. He always claimed his friends abandoned him once they had kids.

Outside in the hallway the younger boy is sobbing.



Sam and I look at each other. I’m sorry, I try to say to him with my eyes. I’m sorry you can’t protect them from this.

‘They’re good boys,’ Yash says quietly.

Paige leans in from the doorway. ‘Rosemary says the doctor on rounds is down the hall.’

Rounds. Wasn’t it early for rounds? I look at the clock. Somehow it’s past five. I can’t account for this.

‘Can you put the game on in the family room?’ Yash says.

‘Ted’s doing that right now,’ she says.

Yash turns to Sam. ‘Time to get everyone out.’

Sam is already reaching for the remote. He cuts the sound and they all seem to know what to do. They high-five Yash on the way out.

I wait for them all to file out, then stand to leave, too.

‘Not you, Jordan.’ Sam says. Then more softly, ‘Would you stay?’

‘Of course.’ I sit back down, take Yash’s hand.

The doctor comes in followed by a flock of residents who quickly settle in a semicircle behind him. Yash and Sam are unfazed by this sudden array of strangers in the room.

‘Good afternoon, Mr. Thakkar,’ the doctor says without inflection, looking down at his iPad. He lifts his head abruptly and thrusts out his hand. ‘Dr. Gaucher.’



Yash releases my hand to shake his.

The doctor turns to me. ‘Mrs. Thakkar.’

None of us corrects him. I shake his dry hand.