That is way more than we ordered,” he says, looking back at Daniel. “You didn’t have to do this, but I can’t tell you how much it’s appreciated.” Daniel’s face turns bright red. He still hates it when people single him out, even for praise.
“We thought some of the family members might want a snack, too,” he mutters.
The nurse’s smile widens. “That’s cool, man.”
It doesn’t take long for the rest of the nurses to claim their drinks and return to their duties.
“You want to take the coffee around?” I ask Daniel.
He shakes his head. “Why don’t you? I’ll set up what’s left of the food.”
“Okay.” I pick up the metal handle and make my way down the hall, peeking into any open room I find and offering family members what’s left of the drinks. By the time I reach the last door, I have a half-melted frappé and a regular coffee.
Except for the patient, the room is empty. He looks like he might be a couple years older than me. His skin is pale, almost gray, and his cheeks sink down below the bones in his face. There are tubes going into his mouth and nose and several wires running out from under his hospital gown.
“Can I help you?” a tired voice asks behind me.
“I’m sorry,” I say, turning around. “I was checking to see if anyone wanted coffee.”
The woman’s features brighten slightly. “That’s very kind.” She walks past me into the room and sits in the chair near the bed.
“Uh, do you want some?” I ask, trying not to look at the man laying in the bed.
She nods. “That would be lovely.”
I tug the almost empty wagon in behind me. “We have a frozen drink, but it’s more like a barely frozen drink,” I offer.
“Do you have regular?” she asks, her eyes never looking up at me.
“Actually, we do. Do you want cream or sugar?”
“Black.”
“That I can do.” Not wanting to disturb her, I place the cup down on the side table next to her.
“How old are you?” she asks as I turn to leave.
I turn back slowly. “Me?”
She nods.
“I’m seventeen,” I answer.
She smiles. “That was the same age my son was when he left for college.”
I look back to the man on the bed. “Is this your son?” I ask awkwardly.
She nods. “Would you mind sitting with me for a few minutes?” The look of surprise on her face makes me wonder if she meant to ask this question.
I want to say no. I should make up some excuse and pull the wagon down the hall and out the front doors, away from this hospital and especially away from this room. Which is what I’m telling myself as I lay the wagon handle against the wall, pick up the melting frappé, and pull up a chair.
We look at each other, neither knowing what to say. Finally, she glances back at her son and says, “This is James.”
Okay, now seriously, what do you say when someone introduces you to their coma patient son?
“Um, hi, James,” I manage, knowing how stupid I sound. It’s taken me this long to almost master small talk with strangers. No one ever told me I might have to do it with a coma patient.
She smiles and I get the feeling she wasn’t actually introducing us but looking for a reason to say his name. “He was hit by a drunk driver almost ten months ago. His girlfriend, well, I guess she had just become his fiancée, was killed.”
Her story shakes something loose in my memory but it’s still foggy and the humming sounds louder than ever. I try to remember but it only gets worse. “I’m sorry,” I say, trying to remember my manners and not gasp in pain at the same time. Instinctively, I reach into my pocket for the ring. The humming grows softer and even though it’s still there, at least I can hear what the woman is saying.
She smiles at me and for once I think I’m actually fooling someone. “What made you bring in coffee today?” she asks.
I shrug. I don’t know how honest to be. I mean, her son doesn’t look too far from death’s door. How can I possibly tell her it’s because my best friend died and we’re trying to find the silver lining in it? But that’s exactly what I do. Before I can stop myself, the words are tumbling out.
“My best friend, Madeline, died a few days ago. She spent the better part of