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I opened the script. “Let’s start with the first scene.” I cued his line.

Belle

Get out of my way, Gaston.

Bobby Bilancia looked into my eyes. I couldn’t tell if he was acting or if he liked me, but I was definitely into this pretend game.

Bobby delivered the line.

Gaston

You belong to me, Belle.

“Go ahead,” I coached.

Gaston

You must never go into the forest alone, Belle. It isn’t safe…

“You need…” I prompted him.

“You need a strong man to take care of you,” Bobby read.

“Let’s go over this again.” I cued him. Sister Theresa had written her own adaptation of the story, and it sucked. I wanted to tell Bobby the truth, but I didn’t want to undermine his confidence. I turned the page back to the top of the scene to run the lines.

“You have pretty eyes, Jess.”

I looked down at the script, but before I could cue the next line, Bobby Bilancia kissed me. It was a quick kiss on my lips, but it was so exciting it felt as though it lasted about an hour and a half. My first kiss! I wanted to get up, run into the auditorium, and shout the news to the chorus. Instead, I looked down at the script.

“Sorry.” He smiled. “I couldn’t resist.”

I pushed away from the wall and sat across from him on the floor instead of next to him. “We have to focus,” I told him, but I didn’t care about the musical, not really, because I’d just kissed Bobby Bilancia.

“You’re always onthat phone.” Uncle Louie wakes and tries to sit up. “I miss a phone with a cord. We were tethered yet free.”

“Rest.” I put down the phone. “I’m journaling.”

“That therapy thing is turning out to be a side hustle.”

“No freakin’ kidding.” I laugh.

“Glad you think this is funny,” Uncle Louie jokes.

I adjust the hospital blanket to cover Uncle Louie evenly from neck to toes.

“Where’s Lil?”

“Sent her home with Ma to get some rest.”

“How long have I been in here?”

“I’m not sure.”

“There are only two places on earth where you lose track of time: the corner bar and hospitals. I’d place a long marriage in third place.” Louie lies back on the pillow.

I check the clock on the wall. “You were admitted yesterday afternoon. It’s two o’clock in the morning. Monday morning.”

He sighs.