vacant white of the walls disappeared in the dimness of the candlelight.
Amy was smiling.
'Welcome, gentlemen. You're right on time. I admire promptness in my dinner guests.'
'So glad we could make it,' Kirk said. He crossed the room and kissed Amy's hand.
'I'd stand up for a proper greeting,' Brent said, 'but I seem to have this standing problem at the moment.'
'That's all right. I'm glad you've made yourself right at home.'
Kirk sat in an easy chair and propped his crutches against the wall. Amy sat in the other chair.
She had pushed her bed against the far wall. In the center of the room, she had set the bedside table with a white cloth.
Brent noticed it and asked, 'Where'd you get a tablecloth in a place like this?'
'It's a pillow case. Jewel stole it for me from the linen closet. I'm glad you like it.'
'Lovely,' said Kirk. 'The table looks divine. I particularly like the Dixie cups.'
'We must make do with what we have,' Amy said. 'Would either of you like a cocktail?'
'You've got to be kidding,' said Brent.
'Make mine a double,' replied Kirk.
Amy went to the Styrofoam pitcher that had been placed on the table. She poured the contents into three Dixie cups and handed one to Brent and one to Kirk. She took her own and returned to her chair.
'I propose a toast,' said Kirk. 'No matter what other crap goes on in this screwed-up world, to friends.'
'How nicely put,' said Amy. 'You've got such a way with words.'
They each took a sip.
'My God, what is this stuff? Aged scotch it's not,' Kirk said.
'Due to the fact that I am underage and unable to get to the liquor store even if I were forty-seven, I improvised with what was on hand.'
'Obviously,' Kirk said.
'You don't like my little punch?' Amy asked. 'It's brewed by Benedictine monks in a monastery just outside Perth Amboy, New Jersey.'
'Great. What is it?'
'Coke and Welchade. It's all I could get my hands on. Has a certain unique pizzazz, wouldn't you say?'
'Unique is right,' said Brent, drinking from his cup sideways, trying not to spill on his pillow. He didn't want to use one of those dumb bendable straws for a cocktail, even if it did taste like sludge.
'Dinner will be arriving presently, I believe. I gave instructions to the cook to have the first course ready just after seven.'
'First course? How many are there?' Brent asked.
'One. But I ordered enough so you could have seconds.'
'I can hardly wait,' Kirk said. 'If it's as good as the cocktail, I may barf.'
'You, kind gentleman, are no gentleman. Nor are you kind. If you do not appreciate my cuisine, you are welcome to eat the regular hospital dinner. I believe you can still get it.'
'Do you want to kill me?'
'It has crossed my mind once or twice,' Amy laughed.
'Hey, Amy,' Brent said, 'I got a present for you. Kind of a housewarming present or something.'
'Oh, thanks, Brent. That's nice of you.'
Brent pulled the finished watercolor from under his sheet. He was pleased with the way it had turned out. He handed it over to Amy.
'Oh, Brent,' Amy said. 'It's beautiful. I didn't know you could paint.'
Kirk leaned over and looked. 'Wow,' he said. 'Not half bad. You could give Andrew Wyeth a run for his money.'
'Thanks,' said Brent. 'It turned out all right, I guess. It's the first picture of a person I've ever tried.'
'I love it, Brent. I know just where I'm going to put it.'
Amy got up from her chair and crossed the room. She placed the small portrait among the fronds of an asparagus fern.
Brent liked the way it looked there, like Amy peering out from the middle of a forest.
'When are you going to paint my portrait?' Kirk asked.
'I don't know,' Brent replied. 'I'm not very good at painting like Picasso.'
Brent was enjoying the game: the candles, the forest of plants, the tablecloth, the jokes. He felt very special and even closer to Amy and Kirk than he had that afternoon.
We are, at this moment, a very close three, he thought.
There was a knock at the door.
'Perhaps that's dinner now,' Amy said. 'Come in.'
A delivery boy appeared in the opened door. 'Is this where the pizzas go? The nurse said this was the room.'
'They sure do,' Amy said and crossed to her bedside table and took out some money. 'Just put them on the table please.'
She paid the boy and he left, closing the door behind him.
'Dinner is served. Pepperoni or mushroom?'
'My God,' said Kirk. 'I, in all my born days, have never smelled anything so good. You, Amy, are a saint in a bathrobe. Let's eat.'
Amy opened the two large lids of the flat cardboard boxes. Steam and odors swept upward into the candlelight. It was beautiful: two huge pizzas, covered with sauce, bubbling with cheese, spicy with pepperoni and mushroom.
'Amy, no crap, you're a genius,' Kirk said.
'So I've been told.'
She pulled the slices apart and placed one from each pizza on two plates, for Brent and Kirk.
'I don't know how you're supposed to eat pizza lying down, but I don't care if it glops all over my pillow or dribbles in my ear.'
Amy took one slice from the mushroom pizza and nibbled at it, quietly smiling.
Amy ended up eating two pieces, Brent five and Kirk managed the other nine.
'You can't let the food of the gods go to waste,' he said as he started to chomp on the last slice.
'That was great, Amy,' Brent said. 'Thanks. I really mean it.'
'Mmmm,' Kirk added through his last mouthful.
'You must come again some time,' Amy said. 'I love giving dinner parties.'
Suddenly she gasped and blood gushed from her nose. It ran down her chin and spread across her bathrobe.
'Oh, good shit,' Kirk said. 'What is it?'
Amy covered her face with her hands and shook her head. The blood came through her closed fingers.
'Get somebody!' Brent said.
Kirk grabbed at his crutches and hobbled and jumped toward the door. He swung it open and almost fell into the hallway.
'Somebody get down here! Sombody get down here fast!'
Nurse Schultz ran down the hall toward him.
'What's the matter?' she yelled.
'It's Amy. She's bleeding.'
Nurse Schultz shouted back to the nurses' station. 'Jean, send for a doctor, quick.'
Kirk turned back to the room and stood just inside the doorway. Amy was holding her nostrils closed. She was streaked with blood.
'I'm sorry,' she managed to say.
'Don't be,' Kirk said. 'It's been a lovely evening. Thanks. I really mean it. Perhaps you would like to be alone to clean up the dinner dishes.'
