Page 86 of Don't Go
"And bring it tomorrow with notes."
"Mmm…"
Sabrina was at the counter at the nurse's station, signing paperwork. It was thick. She was working through it the way she worked through the bar — efficient, no flourish — and I watched her sign.
She had small handwriting. Her signature was a single capital S and a tail. She used a pen that had been chained to the counter and handed the clipboard back to the nurse. The nurse said something, and Sabrina nodded.
She came back to me.
We walked toward the elevator. Bonnie was a step ahead, holding Walter, walking carefully — Dr. Reyes had said limited stairs, but he hadn't had to say walk carefully. Halfway down the corridor, Sabrina caught my sleeve.
She pulled me to the side.
We were beside a window that looked at a parking structure. The corridor was empty enough that it was just us for a while.
"Beau."
"Yeah?"
"Thank you for being here, for being here all weekend. I — "
"You don't have to."
"Let me… For being here when you have your own thing to deal with. I'm not going to pretend I don't know what your weekend looked like."
I shook my head. "Sabrina."
"I'm thanking you, Beau. Take it."
I took it. I leaned down and kissed her.
Then straightened. "I'll come by after work."
"That would be nice." She smiled.
"I'll bring something for dinner."
"That’s even better."
"And the book."
"And the notes," she said. "You heard her."
"I heard her." I chuckled.
We caught up to Bonnie at the elevator.
Bonnie turned to me. She went up on her toes and gave me a hug. "Bye, Beau."
"Bye, Bonnie. Tomorrow."
"With notes."
She and Sabrina got into the elevator. The doors closed.
I drove to the foundation.
The foundation building was on Madison. The lobby had a security desk, a planter, and a piece of art on the wall that my father had bought in the late nineteen-nineties. I had walked past the piece of art a thousand times in my life and had never asked my father if he had liked it.
