Mandy laughs again. “That’s biscuits and gravy,” she says with a bright, toothy smile. “Welcome to America.”
“There’s no way I’m eating that,” I say.
“Fine,” says Dr. Ramirez. “But eat as much as you can of the rest. Have a milkshake later, if you can, for a snack. When you find it hard to eat in volume, you’ll be glad you can drink some calories.”
“It’s true,” Mandy adds. “A few weeks from now, you’ll be sending me on an errand to get you this very breakfast, and you won’t be able to keep it down.”
I take the fork and knife, one in each hand.You can do this, Vale. I pep myself, and Mandy roars with laughter again. My glare rises to her, and she presses her lips together.
“It’s not so bad,” says Mandy. “You’ll see.”
And it really isn’t. It’s greasy, and I’m not used to it, but I stop when I’m comfortable, and Dr. Ramirez nods with approval at the amount I manage to devour.
“Well, ladies,” she says. “I have to get to work. Mandy, why don’t you take the morning off? You haven’t used any vacation time in a while.”
“Thanks, boss,” Mandy says, between mouthfuls of the pancakes she ordered, before Dr. Ramirez leaves us alone.
When we ask for our checks, the waiter informs us that both our tabs have been taken care of.
“Dr. Ramirez is generous like that,” says Mandy. “Sometimes too generous. People tend to want to walk over her.”
“Don’t take advantage. Noted.”
As we make our way outside, I ask Mandy something that crossed my mind during breakfast. “Hey, is it okay for us to socialize outside the hospital?”
“Not with Dr. R. Today was fine, but she won’t be hanging out with us on the regular. She needs to keep a line drawn between her personal life and her patients. But I’m cool.”
“You won’t get in trouble?”
“No. I don’t handle patient care or anything like that. The hospital won’t have a problem if we’re friends, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
We are on the sidewalk, and Mandy stands in front of me. “So, what would you like to do? Seems I’m free this morning.”
I shrug. “I was just planning on exploring the neighborhood a bit.”
“That’s great.” Mandy starts to rattle off suggestions on which direction we should take when I see the glint of red hair walking in our direction. The man in front of him walks into a shop, and I can clearly make out Rory—the guy who saved my Pop-Tart. He is looking at his phone and hasn’t seen us yet, and for some reason, I don’t want him to.
“Let’s go there,” I quip and grab her arm as I haul her across the street and into the used-book store. I look out the window as Rory passes by, swallowed in a crowd of people.
When we are safely inside the bookshop, Mandy flashes me a funny look. “Okay, weirdo. What was that?”
“Just this guy I met the other day—”
“Oooh, a guy? Which one is it?” She cranes her neck after the group of people crossing the street. “Is he cute?”
“Doesn’t matter. I can’t really date now, can I?”
“No, but enjoy your sex-drive while you can. Trust me. It’s going to take a bit of a vacation once you start treatment. Everyone handles it differently, but your body will change a lot. Sex will be the last thing on your mind.”
I’m so stunned at her directness, I change the subject. “Well, I have to get back. I have furniture deliveries today.”
“Oh, I’ll come with. I can help move things around.”
“You really don’t have to.”
“I want to.” And just like that, Mandy invites herself over.
As we walk to my apartment, it dawns on me I don’t know her full name. “What’s your last name?”