* Now that the drama is past and I prepare to spend the night on this hospital room couch, I’d like to have a word with management about the thread count of these linens.
* – * – *
* What the heck Erin? I asked you to bring me dinner, not . . . whatever this is.
* Sorry. I had my hands full, so I told Henry to grab you some stuff. But I figure if there’s anyone who can get by on pistachios and chocolate, it’s you.
* – * – *
* This is the only change of clothes your mother brought me. Do I look dorky walking around like this?
* Well, yes, but you always do.
* – * – *
* Look, I’m sorry that it hurts to laugh baby. But you can’t choose to engage me in conversation and then not be prepared to deal with the consequences of that choice.
* – * – *
* Dad! You didn’t wash your hands after you peed!
* What?
* The sink is OUTSIDE the bathroom Dad, so I KNOW you didn’t use it.
* I . . . I was gonna . . .
* – * – *
* So I brought all kinds of stuff for us to read aloud – a little Vonnegut, the Norton Anthology of Short Fiction, some essays by Hitchens, this book about-
* Yeah, I guess we do need stuff to put me to sleep.
* – * – *
* OMG, they have a foosball table in the lounge. Come on – you can experience what five years at The University of Chicago taught me.
* – * – *
* Hey, Shakespeare In Love is on Netflix. This is gonna be great. . . . [later] . . . Um, I didn’t remember it had this much sex in it.
* – * – *
* Morning Erin – are you bringing me breakfast?
* I have to drop the other kids off and then do cardiac rounds. I could maybe get you something by 9:30. But you know there’s a Starbucks on the first floor that you can visit.
* . . . You couldn’t have mentioned that before my dinner of pistachios and chocolate?