We just sit here for a minute, though.

“Everything okay?” he asks.

“Yeah,” I tell him. “Not really. I don’t know. Usually, I’m nervous to be around my mom because of the way she is—you know, as far as her personality. Now, I’m still worried about that, but I haven’t seen her since the surgery, either. Kristin says that she’s recovering pretty well and everything, but she can’t really move that much right now. They removed not only the tumors, but a fair amount of cartilage as well. I guess I’m just hoping that you’ll somehow come up with a reason for us not to go in there right now.”

“If you don’t want to go in there, we don’t have to, or if you’d rather go in there alone, I can walk you to the room or I can wait here. It really comes down to what you want to do,” he says. “I’m not here to force anything.”

My hands are still on the steering wheel, and I’m looking down at the empty ignition, wondering if it actually would be better to just put the key back in and drive off into wherever.

“Let’s go,” I tell him.

The key, at least as far as I’m telling myself right now, is not to think about it, to just keep walking until we’re in the room. Once we’re there, it’s not like we’ll really be able to leave anyway.

I pull my phone out of my pocket and quickly dial my dad’s cellphone.

“Hey sweetheart,” my dad says, “I was just thinking about you.”

“Hey Dad,” I answer, “I’m at the hospital. Are you here?”

“No, sweetheart, I ran back home to get a shower and take a nap, but I’ll be back there in about an hour if you want to stick around,” he says.

“Is Kristin here?” I ask. “Do you know?”

“She was when I left,” he says, “but I don’t know if she’s still there.”

“All right,” I tell him. “We may or may not be here when you get back.”

“Who’s we?” he asks.

“You remember Eric?” I ask, still not quite ready to define the relationship.

“Oh, that young man who brought you to the hospital last week?” he asks. “Yeah, I remember him. He’s there with you?”

“Yeah,” I answer.

“Would you mind if I speak with him for a moment?” my dad asks.

I don’t stop walking, but my pace slows enough that Eric turns to see what’s going on.

“Why?” I ask my father.

“I’d just like to say hello and tell him thank you for being such a comfort to you. I can tell that he cares about you,” my dad says.

“How can you tell that?” I ask.

“It’s just the way he looked at you when he came with you the last time,” my dad answers. “And how nervous he was when he was talking to your sister and me.”

“That’s quite the sixth sense you’ve got there, Dad,” I snort.

“I promise I won’t embarrass you,” he says.

I pull the phone away from my ear and tell Eric, “Hey, um, my dad wants to talk to you.”

“He does?” Eric asks, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Yeah,” I answer. “I wouldn’t worry about it. He’s the nice one.”

“All right,” Eric says cautiously and reaches his hand out.

I give him the phone and he says, “Hi, Mr. Davis, this is Eric.”

While my dad is the nice one, he’s always been a little protective of me and Kristin. I’m just hoping he’s not giving that clichéd “You break my daughter’s heart and I’ll break your neck” line.

So far, I’m not seeing any signs of terror on Eric’s face, so I’m hoping for the best.

Eric’s talking quietly for most of the brief conversation, but finally he turns back toward me, saying, “Sure thing,” and “Yeah, I will. It’s nice talking to you, too, sir. Here’s Jessica.”

He hands the phone back to me. Before I put it back to my ear, I have to ask: “Sir?”

“It’s the respectful thing to say,” he explains.

I shake my head and put the phone back to my ear. “Hey, Dad what’s up?”

“I’m going to go ahead and stay here,” my dad says. “You’re coming home after you visit with your mother, aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” I tell him. “I’m thinking of—”

“Great,” my dad interrupts. “Well, just give me a call when you’re leaving and I’ll make sure I’m decent for when you get here. Talk to you later, sweetheart.”

“All right Dad,” I smile. Wouldn’t that be the twig and berries on top of the uncomfortable sundae that is this little field trip? “I’ll see you when we get there.”

“I love you,” he says.

“I love you, too,” I answer and hang up.

“Shall we?” Eric asks and we make our way to the elevator.

When the doors are closed, I ask him, “So, what’d you two talk about?”

“Nothing much,” Eric answers, watching the number above the door switch from one to two.

It’s like he’s hiding something, but I have no idea what it could be.

“Nothing much?” I ask.

“Yeah,” he says. “He just wanted to say thanks for me coming with you. That’s all.”

“Okay,” I answer.

The door opens and I grab Eric’s hand as we turn down the hallway toward my mom’s room. There are no loud expressions of disappointment or sarcastic remarks coming from the room so either Kristin’s gone or my mom’s asleep.

Right now, I’m hoping for the latter.

We come around the corner into the room and my mom’s lying back in bed, watching television.

“Oh, hi dear,” she says when she sees me.

I walk over and give her a hug, saying, “Hey Mom. How are you feeling?”

“I feel great!” she exclaims. “I can’t move too much, but whatever the doctors gave me for pain—you know, there are people that take this stuff just for fun? I used to think they were crazy and I certainly wouldn’t do it myself, but not everyone’s cut out for that kind of thing.”

Maybe drugged up is almost as good as asleep. At least she’s in a good mood.

“Who’s this, then?” she asks.

“This is Eric,” I answer.

Eric moves forward to shake my mom’s hand, either not knowing or forgetting that she can’t really move to reciprocate. My mom, on the other hand hasn’t taken her eyes off of me.

“No,” she says, “I mean who is he?”

I was really hoping I could get away with the brief introduction and not have to settle on an answer for the question, but here we are.

“He did some work for the store a while back,” I tell her. “He’s the one who headed the crew that did the remodel.”

“So he’s an employee?” my mom asks.

“No,” I tell her. “He’s helped a bit after the remodel and all that, but I wouldn’t say that he’s an employee.”

“So who is he?” she asks, but just as quickly moves on, saying, “You know, there are spiders in this world that flick their hair at you when you invade their space?”

“I didn’t know that,” I answer, smiling.

“Does Eric?” she asks and leans her head forward a bit, whispering, “Who is he again?”

“I did, actually,” Eric tells her. “We used to have a Chilean rose tarantula when I was a kid. That thing would urticate every time we’d go to feed it. It was a pretty foul-tempered thing.”

“Oh, how nice,” my mom says, looking at him ever so briefly. She looks back at me, saying, “You know, I think the nurses are after my sugar free gum.”

She gives an exaggerated nod of her head, and I’m trying not to laugh.

This is actually about the best case scenario. Not only is she being semi-polite to Eric and me, but she’s got some color back in her face. She’s already looking healthier.

“Eric,” my mom says, “I’m wondering if I could impose upon you for a favor.”

“Sure thing,” he answers. “What can I do for you?”

“I keep asking the nurses to bring me a diet cherry cola, but they always seem to come back with a diet cola, no cherry, or a cherry cola, no diet. Last night, one of them came back with a diet cherry soda that wasn’t even a cola. I was wondering if you might have the sense enough to bring me the right thing for the first time since I’ve been in this hospital,” she requests.

“Not a problem,” he says. “Did you want a can or a bottle?”

“It doesn’t matter, dear,” she answers. “Thank you.”