11 Chapter 11

We chuckled anemically together. “It may come up again later,” he said. “But it’s probably better if we both do it.”

“Okay,” I said, gamely pretending that pulling myself together was some kind of possible, “we just need to get you to a hospital, that’s all.”

“How?”

Together we turned our heads toward the windows. In case what—we’d imagined all the snow? In case driving anywhere but “off the road” hadn’t already been proven impossible?

I sat at his feet for a spell, until another set of what I supposed were his contractions racked his body. When this passed, I stood up. “For starters, what if we get you up to a bed?” I suggested.

He nodded with some enthusiasm, so I reached under his armpit to help him to his feet. The elevator hadn’t gone anywhere, and after a brief shuffle across the lobby, we were on our way up to his room.

“For future reference,” I said as we made our way down the hall, “this story kicks the Olive Garden’s ass.”