Page 102 of Can't Kiss the Chef

“Okay Ms. Philly what’s there to do around here?”

She does a quick survey of our surroundings.

“Let’s go get a coffee and walk around Temple’s campus. That way we can get back quickly if we need to.”

“That sounds good.” The words come out unsure. The thought of having to come back here quickly can only mean my dad’s situation is worse than we thought.

It’s only half a block before we find a local coffee shop. The walls are lined with Philadelphia sports legends. The world is full of girly trendy coffee shops I think is a testament to why we need more male inspired ones. This place is dope.

Extra large coffees are glued to our hands– partly to keep them warm– to sip on during our walk through campus.

Lola’s being uncharacteristically quiet. The lack of conversation heightens my anxiety. I thought it had maxed out when we were in the waiting room, but watching Lola’s tongue poke into the side of her cheek unsure of what to say makes it worse.

Lola’s moody, but she’s rarely quiet. There is always some kind of a sarcastic dig or she’s going on about some new book she’s reading, speaking so fast it’s impossible to follow the plot.

Wrapping my arm around her shoulders, I pull her into my side. It’s remarkable that our steps are so in sync. The heightdifference should make that impossible but sometimes things just work despite all the outside factors saying they shouldn’t.

“What’s going on in that head of yours, Lowy?”

When she doesn’t react to the nickname I squeeze her hand.

“I’m going to ask you a question, but just know I’m doing it because I love you and I want you to be prepared for whatever they might tell us when we get back.”

She sips her coffee leaving a little lip gloss stain on the rim.

“Have you thought about what might happen if we don’t get the news we hoped for today?”

“What do you mean?”

She keeps her eyes on the leaf laden path.

“Are you going to be okay staying at school?”

The context is written clearly between the lines. We both know she means, would I be okay staying at school living out my senior year while my mom takes care of my dying Dad.

“I’ll support you no matter what you choose, but I just want to make sure you’ve thought everything through.”

There’s a hitch in my step, it throws everything off and before I can recover Lola is already a step ahead of me. I always knew there was a chance my dad was going to die. To be permanently out of my life before we’ve had the chance to really know each other. I’m not sure how I could stay in Westvale knowing that I might never see him again.

Two hands land on my cheeks forcing my head to the left.

“Hey is everything okay? I’ve been trying to get your attention for a minute there.”

“Um, sorry I guess I was realizing there is a lot I haven’t thought about.” The words sound like they’ve been strangled out of me.

The apples of her cheeks flatten when she realizes that she’s given me more to think about.

“My dad texted me and said we should get back to the hospital.”

Lola tries to keep the conversation light. She asks me about our games this weekend and if I think the Jets are really going to beat the Bills this weekend. Normally there is nothing I love more than talking about our little AFC East rivalry, but today I only answer in grunts.

My jacket is stripped off the moment we step in the elevator. It feels like I’m in a sauna with the devil himself. I rub my hands down my pants praying that Lola doesn’t try to grab one and realize how clammy they are. The number on the elevator slowly ticks up. It’s an eternity before it reaches floor fourteen. All of a sudden, I feel like my shirt is strangling me so I tug on the collar a couple of times like it’s going to open my airways.

Lola reaches for my hand, pulling me away from the door.

“Whatever the doctor says, I want you to know that I’m here for you. If there is something you need to get off your chest, but you don’t want to burden your mom with it you can tell me. Please don’t hold all your emotions in, okay?”

The back of her hands run down my cheek. The simple gesture reminds me to breathe.

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