Page 19 of Knocked Up

"Are you okay? Is he…"

"He's fine. He's in the truck. I brought you this," I said, and held out the bag.

"What is it?"

"Soup. It's my grandfather's."

"Beckett."

"It isn't a thing." I put it on the counter. "You're about to say you already ate."

"I already…"

"When?"

She opened her mouth. Closed it.

"There was a granola bar," she said. "At some point."

I looked at her.

"There was definitely a granola bar."

"Bowls. Where?"

"Break room, second cabinet, but I don't…"

There were four bowls and one of them said World's Okayest Doctor. I used that one because it was the biggest. I filled it and put it on the front counter. I set a spoon down beside it and stepped back.

"I'm not going to sit down," she said. "If I sit down I'm finished."

"Then don't sit down."

So she ate it standing up at her own front counter at a quarter to midnight. About four spoonfuls in, she stopped.

Something went across her face. It wasn't happiness. It was closer to what people look like when they finally sit down after standing for a long time.

"You made a face."

"I did not make a face."

"Tessa."

"It's good," she said, to the bowl. "It's really good. It tastes like…"

"Like what?"

"It tastes like a person made it. That's a stupid sentence. I've been awake nineteen hours."

She ate the whole thing. Then she looked at the pot, and then at me. She filled the bowl again and ate that one too. She did not say another word the entire time.

I would have stood there all night.

While she ate, I looked at the desk. I meant to.

Under the appointment book there were three window envelopes now, all opened. The top one had Second Notice printed where I could read it without moving anything, and a date eight days old.

On top of the whole stack was the golden retriever again. A partner for the next chapter of your practice. Somebody at Apex had written a name and a direct line across the bottom in blue pen. Underneath that, smaller: We'd hate to see the renewal go the other way.