You don’t have to take care of everyone. Let me have a turn.
I smiled when I wrote it.
I thought I was being a good wife.
I thought I was bringing lunch to an exhausted husband.
I had no idea I was about to walk into a conversation that would change our marriage.
The hospital was unusually quiet when I arrived.
I walked through the main entrance carrying the paper bag and nodded at the receptionist.
I knew several people there after eleven years of Ben working in the same place.
A nurse waved at me.
Someone from the cafeteria smiled.
I headed toward the surgical wing.
Then I saw Arnold.
Arnold had worked with Ben for years.
They weren’t just colleagues. They were friends.
Golf friends.
Coffee friends.
The kind of friends who could finish each other’s sentences.
Arnold was standing outside the nurses’ station.
The moment he saw me, his expression changed.
Not subtly.
His shoulders stiffened.
His eyes widened.
Then he looked at the lunch bag in my hand.
Then back at me.
“Arnold?”
He didn’t answer.
I smiled awkwardly.
“Hi. I’m looking for Ben.”
His face went pale.
“You’re here for Ben?”
I laughed.
“Unless there’s another surgeon in this hospital who drinks terrible black coffee, hates tomatoes on his sandwiches, and thinks apple pie counts as breakfast.”
