Page 22 of The Rules of Dating a Younger Man

“You’ll just have to wear a mask and not touch anything. Many of our patients have weakened immune systems from treatment.”

“Oh, of course.”

I followed Liz up to the fourth-floor pediatric oncology unit. We stopped at the nurses’ station to let them know we’d come bearing gifts, and then headed down to the patient recreation room.

After my husband was diagnosed, I’d spent a lot of time around cancer patients, but nothing could’ve prepared me for the heartache I felt walking into a room full of sick children. Many had bald heads and sallow skin, and the majority were hooked up to IV poles with multiple bags hanging. The room started to sway back and forth, and my chest felt like an elephant had parked his ass on it. “God,” I mumbled.

“I know.” Liz patted me on the back as we stood just inside the doorway. “But hang in there. I promise you’re going to feel better in a few minutes. These kids aren’t just what we see. They’re resilient and inspiring. Watch.” Liz walked to the center of the room and smiled. “Hello, everyone! Who remembers my name?”

A boy who was probably about eight raised a hand. “You’re Lizzle the Schizzle.”

Liz chuckled. “That’s Little Ray. He gives everyone a rapper name.”

The kid looked over at me. “What’s your name?”

“Alex.”

He gave me a thumbs up. “A-dog.”

I smiled. “I like it.”

“He calls Dr. Artemis, our chief who never smiles, MC Remission. I crack up every time.”

The heaviness in my chest seemed to float away over the next half hour. Liz had said the new gaming consoles would light up faces, but they did more than that. They made my spirit soar. The kids ripped open the boxes and hooked up the equipment in less than five minutes. After, we watched them try out all the new games. By the time Liz said she needed to get back downstairs, I’d decided I’d be making the same delivery to my local hospital when I got home.

We said goodbye to everyone and started down the hall side by side. Halfway to the elevator, I heard a familiar voice. At first, I’d thought I’d imagined it. But when I heard it a second time, I stopped and looked around. Inside a small visiting room to my left, a little boy in a gown sat on a couch between his parents. A man dressed in paper scrubs, a surgical cap, and a mask stood in front of them, holding a large box. The only thing I could see were his green eyes, but that’s all it took to know it was Brayden.

Liz pointed to the man behind the glass window. “That’s Brayden from Ryan’s House.”

“I know. We’ve…met.”

“That’s right. I forgot you said you’re working on one of their projects.”

“Why is he dressed like that?”

“It’s required when a patient is under protective isolation. Unfortunately, it’s necessary when someone is severely immunosuppressed. Only parents and members of the treatment team are permitted to visit, and they have to take every precaution.”

“But…” I was about to ask how Brayden fit into that category when the reason became clear. Brayden set down the box in his hands and took the top off. When he reached inside and pulled something out, the little boy’s eyes flared wide. He jumped out of his seat with a giant smile. I hadn’t noticed the boy was missing an arm—not until I saw the prosthetic one. And it wasn’t just any prosthetic. This one was something out of a Marvel comic book. The entire muscular arm was painted glossy red, and black web lines ran up the forearm. A 3D spider embellished the top of the hand, and the knuckles of the fingers were bright blue. I wasn’t into superheroes, but even I could appreciate how awesome this Spider-Man arm was. My heart melted as I looked through the glass.

Liz interrupted my staring. “Do you mind if we get going? I have to meet a family downstairs in a few minutes.”

“Oh. Yes, I’m sorry. Of course.” I stole one last look before walking the rest of the way to the elevator. Brayden might’ve been out of sight, but it was going to take a long time to put what I’d just seen out of my mind.

***

Back in Connecticut the following Monday morning, Wells, my best friend and partner, walked into a treatment room while I was looking at myself in the mirror.

“Morning, Kitten,” he said.

I pulled the skin on my face taut on both sides of my eyes. “Should I get Botox? Or maybe filler?”

He came up behind me and looked at my reflection. “Yes.”

My face fell. “Thanks.”

“What? Don’t ask my opinion if you don’t want it. You’re gorgeous, but you can’t stop Mother Nature without a syringe, sweetheart.”

I sighed. “Getting old sucks.”

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