“You don’t even like pumpkin.” She had given him a funny face as they got into the Jeep again. “What are you doing?”
“Seeing things from your side of the fence.” He took a sip and shuddered. “Just this one time, anyway.”
Here in the tube she relived each moment.
At each stop the cashier was ready with a pink card, and each card held another poem, another hint for the next stage of their adventure.
The next poem led them to a custom cookie store. Behind the counter an older woman seemed to recognize Tommy as soon as they walked in. Tommy grinned at her. “My princess has an order, I believe.”
Annalee was getting used to this. “Yes… I’d like a 2.1 please.” She laughed. “Whatever that means.”
“Well…” The woman giggled. She had to have been in her eighties. This must’ve been the highlight of her week. “Today only… a 2.1 is this.” She lifted a small pizza-sized box from beneath the counter and opened the lid.
Pink writing on a pair of enormous chocolate chip cookies read:
Princess lovely
Girl so fair…
I think we make
A lasting pair!
Tommy winked at her. “Pair… get it? Two cookies. Because we’re the perfect duo!”
Again Annalee laughed. The woman gave her yet another pink envelope, and this one directed the two of them to the Fishers Topgolf, twenty miles northeast of Indianapolis. On the ride there, Tommy played Broadway show tunes. Hits from Hamilton and Dear Evan Hansen and The Lion King.
They sang at the top of their lungs and laughed at how they had been in the school musical together fall of their freshman year. He had been Frank Butler in Annie Get Your Gun and she’d been Annie. That was how they met.
A “showmance,” they had called it.
The noises in the tube were louder now. Annalee squeezed her eyes more tightly shut.
Don’t think about it. You’re at Topgolf now.
Topgolf turned out to be the last stop on their list of adventures that night. A few times a year, Tommy golfed with his dad and uncles. But Annalee had never done more than miniature golf. That night nearly every time she took the club and tried to hit the ball, she made some mistake.
First, she had accidentally tipped the ball, causing it to roll off the platform in slow motion and down into the scoring area below. As if the wind had blown it off the putting surface. For her next turn, she hit the ball straight at the course map directly in front of her. It had ricocheted off the hard surface and barely missed her face as it settled into the wasteland below.
Both of them had collapsed in a hug of giddy joy, holding each other up so they wouldn’t fall to the ground laughing. When Tommy could finally breathe again, he had looked at her. “You’re the only one who needs a helmet at Topgolf.”
Noises from the scan grew louder again.
Focus, Annalee told herself. Stay with the memory.
On the drive home, she and Tommy sang again and talked about musical theater, their love for it and the reasons neither of them had stayed with it. Annalee had shifted her attention to choir. And Tommy played basketball. Which meant neither of them had time for school musicals.
Still, it was one of their dreams to spend a weekend in New York City. Walk the insanely busy streets and catch a few shows. Tommy was going with his family for the anniversary of 9/11, but that was a different sort of trip.
Annalee could still see Tommy’s profile as he pulled his Jeep in front of her house late that night. He put the car in park, then turned to her. “And that, Annie, is how a princess should be treated.”
Annie.
The noise around her faded, and her heart was filled again with the sound of Tommy’s voice. Calling her Annie. For her, it was a silly nickname, the one Tommy used when he wanted to make her smile.
He was the only one who ever called her that.
Tommy had helped her carry the cookies and her handful of pink cards as he walked her up to the door. He faced her and took hold of her hands. The night air had been chilly, so he stood close. As if he might shelter her from more than the cool evening, but from anything that would ever dare come between them. Whatever might try to hurt her.
They set their things down on the nearest rocking chair and Tommy took her in his arms. “All night… I kept waiting for this. You and me, alone.” He took her face in his hands and kissed her.
Just long enough to tell her what he wouldn’t dare say with words.
Because they knew better than to let a moment like that linger. Instead she had watched the muscles in his jaw flex, something that happened when he was making a difficult shot on the basketball court. Whenever he had to work extra-hard.
Like he had to work to not keep kissing her. His breath had been warm on her face, and when he said goodbye he leaned close. Ever so slowly his lips touched hers once more. Only that.
“You deserve the world, Annalee.” He handed her the cookie box and searched her eyes. “The least I could give you was a Super Surprise Saturday.” He was a few steps down the walkway, then he looked back and grinned. “Oh… and next time we might skip Topgolf!”
The memory lifted. There. She had done it. The scan was nearly finished, and because of her father’s advice Annalee had avoided thinking about it all this time. Thinking about the possible reasons the internist had ordered it. She blinked her eyes open and then closed them again.
This is nothing. It has to be nothing.
There was high school to finish and college to conquer and people to help. She had Tommy Baxter to spend her whole life loving. This health situation was just a reminder for her to take better care of herself. In a week or so she’d get the results. Mononucleosis. And she’d rest up—as long as she needed.
Then she would get on with her life.
The machine made a loud thumping, like someone was trying to jackhammer their way into the cylinder. She held her breath. How much longer did she have in here? And why was she having trouble breathing? When could she get back to Tommy in the waiting room?
She had no answers, no way of knowing how much longer she had to stay in the suffocating tube. But she knew what to do about it. And just like that she could feel herself climbing into Tommy’s Jeep and he was sliding behind the wheel, smiling at her.
“You ready for your Super Surprise Saturday?”
6
Tommy’s stomach hurt. He stood and walked up to the receptionist. “Annalee Miller?”
This time it was a guy behind the counter. He didn’t look old enough to work at a hospital. “I’m sorry?”
“Annalee Miller.” Tommy forced himself to stay calm. “She’s been in there thirty minutes. Do you know how much longer?”
The guy checked something on his desk and then on the computer screen. “Uh… looks like she has another half hour or so.” He hesitated. “There’s a cafeteria and a coffee shop on the fourth floor.”
Coffee. That would help. Tommy nodded. “Thanks.” He had to get out of here before he shouted at someone. What possible reason could there be for a scan to take this long? He walked out the office door and headed down the hall.
Already he could breathe better.
A cup of black coffee and ten minutes later, Tommy was back in the waiting room. This time he wasn’t alone. An older man sat on one side of the room, eyes downcast, wringing his hands. A carved wooden cane leaned on the chair beside him.