those words grazed across the back of her neck. She shook her head, not sure what to say. "Didn't think so."
"It'll get better," she said. "Maybe ask for some pizza when they order your lunch."
"Tried it," he said. "The pizza here is shit ."
She scowled. It wasn't that bad. She ate it often.
"I should go," she said, turning to him in the bed. "Take care of yourself, Dante."
She grasped his shoulder, squeezing. He didn't react. He didn't say anything. Instead, he closed his eyes, once again draping his arm across them, blocking out the world.
Gabriella left the hospital and took the subway home to her small one-bedroom apartment in Little Italy, on the fifth floor of a rustic brick walk-up with an Italian market below. Exhausted, she made the trek up the narrow staircase leading to her door. She unlocked it once she got there, stepping inside.
Straight ahead was a small kitchen, cut off from the rest of the place by a thin wall. Beyond that, an open living room, little more than a black couch and an old coffee table with a television across from it, affixed to the white-painted wall. Behind a sliding door with frosted glass was her bedroom, the full bed taking up most of the space, leaving just enough room for her dresser and well, her mess .
Cleaning wasn't exactly her biggest priority. Clothes were strewn everywhere. Gabriella hated doing laundry, especially since the washing machines were in the basement of the building.
Down a short hall, beside the bedroom, was the lone bathroom, the size of a closet, one you could barely walk in. It wasn't much. By her parents' account, it wasn't enough . They worried about her living in the city, but Gabriella loved it.
She loved being self-sufficient.
Stripping out of her clothes, flinging them on the floor, Gabriella fell into her bed, face-planting her pillow, desperate for sleep.
After tossing and turning for a few hours, dozing off to inexplicably find herself awake again, Gabriella forced herself back out of bed to shower. Time moved fast while she shuffled slow, putting on a fresh pair of scrubs before making her way back to the hospital.
Another night.
Another shift.
Twelve more hours in the ICU.
On the way, she stopped at Como's Pizzeria, grabbing a small pepperoni pie to go. She detoured in the lobby of the hospital, heading to the information desk, approaching the woman sitting there, answering phones.
"Can you have a volunteer take this up to the general ward?" she asked, handing over the red and white pizza box. "Room 245... patient's name is Dante Galante."
"Uh, sure." She eyed Gabriella with suspicion, the morally gray area beginning to turn dark. "Is this from you ?"
"I'm just delivering it," she said. "Nothing more."
Gabriella started to walk away when the woman called out, "Who's it from?"
She considered that before answering, "Tell him it's from a friend who thinks red Jell-O sucks."
Gabriella headed to a bank of elevators just as one opened. She stepped in with a few others, someone strolling in right behind her. A throat cleared as the doors closed, and Gabriella came face-to-face with Crabtree. "Doctor."
"Nurse." He nodded tersely. "Nice night for pizza, huh?"
"It's always a nice night for pizza," she said. "There's nothing better."
* * *
" H ave I told you lately that I love you?" Genna mumbled with her mouth full. "Because I totally do."
Smiling to himself, Matty tore the plastic off the top of the tub of ice cream. She'd told him she loved him a moment earlier and a few minutes before that, too. In fact, she'd been repeating it non-stop since he'd carried groceries inside. "It's always nice to hear."
"Good, because I seriously love you."
Glancing over his shoulder, Matty watched as she shoveled a bite in her mouth with a plastic spoon, eating straight from the pan.
Chocolate cake with strawberry icing. Who knew how hard it would be to find? Every bakery had chocolate cake covered with vanilla or buttercream or even more chocolate
"It'll get better," she said. "Maybe ask for some pizza when they order your lunch."
"Tried it," he said. "The pizza here is shit ."
She scowled. It wasn't that bad. She ate it often.
"I should go," she said, turning to him in the bed. "Take care of yourself, Dante."
She grasped his shoulder, squeezing. He didn't react. He didn't say anything. Instead, he closed his eyes, once again draping his arm across them, blocking out the world.
Gabriella left the hospital and took the subway home to her small one-bedroom apartment in Little Italy, on the fifth floor of a rustic brick walk-up with an Italian market below. Exhausted, she made the trek up the narrow staircase leading to her door. She unlocked it once she got there, stepping inside.
Straight ahead was a small kitchen, cut off from the rest of the place by a thin wall. Beyond that, an open living room, little more than a black couch and an old coffee table with a television across from it, affixed to the white-painted wall. Behind a sliding door with frosted glass was her bedroom, the full bed taking up most of the space, leaving just enough room for her dresser and well, her mess .
Cleaning wasn't exactly her biggest priority. Clothes were strewn everywhere. Gabriella hated doing laundry, especially since the washing machines were in the basement of the building.
Down a short hall, beside the bedroom, was the lone bathroom, the size of a closet, one you could barely walk in. It wasn't much. By her parents' account, it wasn't enough . They worried about her living in the city, but Gabriella loved it.
She loved being self-sufficient.
Stripping out of her clothes, flinging them on the floor, Gabriella fell into her bed, face-planting her pillow, desperate for sleep.
After tossing and turning for a few hours, dozing off to inexplicably find herself awake again, Gabriella forced herself back out of bed to shower. Time moved fast while she shuffled slow, putting on a fresh pair of scrubs before making her way back to the hospital.
Another night.
Another shift.
Twelve more hours in the ICU.
On the way, she stopped at Como's Pizzeria, grabbing a small pepperoni pie to go. She detoured in the lobby of the hospital, heading to the information desk, approaching the woman sitting there, answering phones.
"Can you have a volunteer take this up to the general ward?" she asked, handing over the red and white pizza box. "Room 245... patient's name is Dante Galante."
"Uh, sure." She eyed Gabriella with suspicion, the morally gray area beginning to turn dark. "Is this from you ?"
"I'm just delivering it," she said. "Nothing more."
Gabriella started to walk away when the woman called out, "Who's it from?"
She considered that before answering, "Tell him it's from a friend who thinks red Jell-O sucks."
Gabriella headed to a bank of elevators just as one opened. She stepped in with a few others, someone strolling in right behind her. A throat cleared as the doors closed, and Gabriella came face-to-face with Crabtree. "Doctor."
"Nurse." He nodded tersely. "Nice night for pizza, huh?"
"It's always a nice night for pizza," she said. "There's nothing better."
* * *
" H ave I told you lately that I love you?" Genna mumbled with her mouth full. "Because I totally do."
Smiling to himself, Matty tore the plastic off the top of the tub of ice cream. She'd told him she loved him a moment earlier and a few minutes before that, too. In fact, she'd been repeating it non-stop since he'd carried groceries inside. "It's always nice to hear."
"Good, because I seriously love you."
Glancing over his shoulder, Matty watched as she shoveled a bite in her mouth with a plastic spoon, eating straight from the pan.
Chocolate cake with strawberry icing. Who knew how hard it would be to find? Every bakery had chocolate cake covered with vanilla or buttercream or even more chocolate
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