Ana looked at Jerry and raised an eyebrow. “Anything, my Sweet?”
He thought about it for a second and caved to temptation. “One of those chocolate-raspberry ones sounds great. Black. Please.”
“You got it. Ana?”
“Thank you, no, doctor.”
“Back in a minute or two, then.”
ELIZABETH PULEO—THE Palliative Care Specialist—pretty much reiterated everything Dr. Kelly told them, so Jerry was ready for a ten-hour nap by the time the cab dropped them off at the loft. Ana helped him up the stairs, and once he was settled on the couch she made him a banana smoothie, like Carmella had taught her.
Jerry stretched and yawned. “Who knew a one hour meeting could be so draining. I feel like I’ve been run over by a train.”
“You had best text Manny before you fall asleep.” She ran the blender briefly. “Why not suggest he telephone after six o’clock this evening. That will give you time to have a nap.”
“Good thinking. You must need to recharge, too. You’ve been up as long as I have.”
“Do not fret about me, Mr. Powell. I am quite capable of looking after myself. As Miss Puleo said, I am your caregiver.”
“She also said you weren’t to wear yourself out.”
“I will rest. I promise.” She brought a tumbler of smoothie over to him. “Now drink this and I will go turn down your bed.”
“Yes, boss lady,” he said to her back as she stepped behind the screen. He drank the smoothie down.
“Exactly. Miss Puleo is a very wise lady and she put me in charge. You shall do exactly what I say or—”
“Or what, Shvibzik? You’ll report me?”
“Not at all, sir.” She peeked around the screen. “I will spank you.”
“Then I’ll have to report you, for physical abuse of someone under your care. I could sue you for damages. Bring you up on charges.” His wink belied his words.
“You may try, sir, but the only thing I have of value is my love for you, and you already have all of it.” She came to him on the couch, took the now-empty tumbler and placed it on the coffee table, then helped him up with the other. He started to protest but she silenced him with a quick kiss on the lips. In silence, Ana led Jerry to the bed. Slowly, gently, she lifted his sweatshirt up over his head and placed it on the chair. Then she undid the buttons of his flannel shirt, exposing his Property of Barenaked Ladies t-shirt. She suppressed a giggle when she read the words on the shirt, then gave him another quick kiss, handed him his pyjamas, and turned her back out of politeness.
“While you change, I will tidy up and send that text to Manny for you, if that is acceptable, my Sweet.”
Jerry brushed her long braid aside and kissed the nape of her neck, his lips lingering, tickling. “That’d be perfect. Thank you, Shvibzik of my heart.” She wiggled under the touch of his lips and then skipped away, to find the phone, he assumed. Exhausted, he finished changing and crawled into the big bed.
As he drifted off to sleep, he wondered how the hell he was going to have the strength to fight a battle he was probably going to lose in the end; and then he felt the sheets lift and fully-clothed Ana slipped into the bed behind him. He fell asleep with her arms around him and a silly, lopsided grin on his face.
“MANNY, I MIGHT as well come in for an hour or so tomorrow. I can double-check Mika’s prep notes for the meeting with the accountant.”
“Jerry, lad, you’re both needed and not needed. I need you or I wouldn’t have hired you, but I don’t need you so badly that I’m going to put the station before your health.”
“My CT planning scan thing isn’t until just after one. We can make sure you’re ready for the meeting, and then maybe I’ll take Lee-Anne out for lunch.”
“I don’t think—”
“If I have to sit at home and do nothing, I’ll drive Ana crazy. Worse still, if I have to sit on my ass and stress over everything, I’ll snap.”
“Right, then. Nine o’clock, for two hours, max.”
“Two hours. Then lunch with Lee-Anne.”
“I’ll have to confirm that with her, make sure she’s not over on the mainland tomorrow. To make it easy, though, assume the lunch is a go unless I send you a text otherwise.”
“Done. See you then.”
“Only because you insist, mate—and because your smiling face seems to have a positive effect around here. Make sure you take a cab, too.”
“Yes, Dad.”
“Smartass brat. I’d ground you, but you’d ignore me anyway. See you tomorrow.”
“Will do.”
Ana took the iPhone out of Jerry’s hand almost as soon as he ended the conversation, and plugged it into the charger. “Now, if you please, send an email to your friend Isis. Maybe you will have time to use the Spike-thing to speak with her.”
“Skype. S-K-Y-P-E.” He smiled. She was right about needing to call Isis, and Skype was the only way to do it. Casual conversations were once okay for TDD telephone for the Hearing Impaired, but with the advancements of Skype and FaceTime and camera phones, there was little need for a touch-typing translator to be an intermediary in a long distance conversation with the deaf. Even when they lived twenty-feet apart, Isis Skyped Jerry whenever she couldn’t drop by in person.
“‘Skype’? What is the meaning?”
“I have no idea. It’s not a word in English, yet.”
“I will have to Google it, later.” She handed him the laptop and he sank back into the cushions to send the email to Isis. The phone buzzed with an incoming text, and Ana took a quick look at the iPhone’s screen. “It is from Mika. She says that Danveer’s Uncle Palak is in town briefly and could she and Danveer bring him by to meet you tomorrow evening, at seven.”
“Sure.” He looked up from the keyboard. “I’ll see her tomorrow at the office, but I suppose they want an answer tonight. Could you text her that seven tomorrow is cool, Shvibzik? Please?”
“Certainly, Jerr-Bear.” She giggled, he laughed, and they both got down to sending their respective messages.
THE RAIN STARTED up just as Jerry finished cleaning the last of the spaghetti sauce off his plate with the heel of garlic loaf. The window rattled for his attention and the raindrops held that attention for a moment longer. “Looks like we’ll have to postpone that walk. How about a movie, instead?”
“Something with Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan?”
“Sure. How about You’ve Got Mail?”
“A romantic story about the postal service? That could be quite interesting.”
He walked his plate over to the sink where Ana was pouring the extra sauce into a jar. “It refers to email, not snail mail, though I think the original Hungarian play was about snail mail pen pals.” He kissed the top of her head.
“‘Snail mail’?”
“What we call regular postal service because, compared to email and text messages, it’s as slow as a snail. Anyway, the movie is more about how true love can be hiding right under your nose the whole time.”
“That sounds delightful.”
HALF AN HOUR later they were curled up on the couch together, Ana giggling along with the staff of the Shop Around the Corner while Jerry drifted in and out of sleep.
“DARLING, WHAT IS a ‘bucket list’?” Ana looked over the laptop to where Jerry was changing for bed behind the screen.