Page 63 of A Million Times, Yes

“How are the cramps today?” I asked Bettie as I stood next to her bed, fixing the pillow behind her and then the one under her knees.

“Since you brought me the Gatorade, I haven’t had any.” She always wore a deep-burgundy shade of lipstick, even though it bled into the lines that surrounded her mouth. I never saw her without it. “You’re a miracle worker.”

I smiled. “I don’t know about that, but I’m happy to hear you’re cramp-free.”

“And you?”

My smile turned into a laugh. “What about me?”

“You wanted to sleep on your thoughts. Any revelations when you woke up this morning?”

I heard myself sigh, but I hadn’t consciously filled my lungs and released the air. “Life isn’t easy, Bettie.”

“Take it from someone who knows—it only gets harder. At your age, you think that when you retire and things calm down professionally, life will suddenly be bliss. But then a whole new set of stress arises. The most important thing is your happiness. If you don’t have that, you have nothing.”

I filled her water glass and handed it to her, knowing from her output numbers that she wasn’t drinking enough. “When I was a kid, I would constantly ask myself if things would ever get better. I used to dream about the days when there wouldn’t be a worry, when my mom and I could enjoy life without stressing.”

“Did that day ever happen?”

I shook my head. “There was always worry and there was always stress.”

“But was there happiness?”

“Moments of it, yes. She never shielded me from the hard times. Maybe she was trying to prep me for adulthood, or maybe she just wasn’t capable of putting on a mask.”

“Or maybe she knew you’d see right through it.”

“Or that.” I slid my hands into the pockets of my scrubs. “It was hard then, Bettie. It’s hard now for an entirely different reason. Weirdly, at the moment, those two periods of my life seem to be overlapping.”

She wiped the corners of her mouth. “You’ve only been my nurse for a couple of weeks, and I don’t see you every day, but I have to say that despite it being hard, I knew you were happy. I could feel it. And when you talked about him, my gosh, you glowed.” She set her hand on her lap, the back covered in deep-purple bruises. Senile purpura was a condition that most of my patients in Bettie’s age range had. “And that’s coming from a semi-stranger who was merely just observing. I bet Emily could go into much more detail than me.”

“You know ... it was probably the happiest I’ve been in a very long time.”

“And now?”

It would be so easy to purge my history to this woman. She was that comfortable to talk to. But Emily gave me enough support, I didn’t need more.

“Now—” I started, before getting cut off by my phone ringing, which came through as bursts of vibration. I took out my cell and looked at the screen. “I’m mourning that happiness and emotionally overwhelmed,” I said softly. “I have to take this call. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

I stepped into the hallway, swiping my finger to accept the call, and held the phone to my ear. “Hi, Mom.”

“Honey . . .”

“What’s wrong?” I looked at my watch, knowing the answer to that question before she answered. Not only was it her tone that gave it away but also the time she was calling.

“I was fired.”

My eyes closed and I nodded. “I know.”

“Cell phone bill, credit card bill—they’re both due in a week.”

I leaned against the wall, grateful it was there. “I’ll deposit some money into your account so you can pay them.”

“Are you sure? You just paid the first month’s rent and the security deposit for my apartment. I can’t ask you for more money.”

There was a vibration against my ear, and I pulled the phone away to look at the screen.

Jordan:I can’t stop thinking about you. How I fucked up. Please talk to me, Maya.