The school day was long enough, but his nights had become longer. I knew he was spending every spare hour in Room 312 of the county hospital, sitting in the plastic chair beside Lily’s bed.
The smell of institutional floor wax in the high school corridor always made me think of September, though the leaves outside were already turning a dry, brittle brown. I waited by the trophy case at three o’clock, holding a red thermos of vegetable beef soup.
The varsity soccer team was scheduled for practice, but the hallway was mostly empty of students. Two teachers stood near the main office, talking in low voices about the upcoming school board meeting on November twelfth.
The high school lobby was bright under the fluorescent tubes. A large paper banner hung over the main office door, wishing the varsity soccer team luck in the upcoming regional matches.
Mrs. Gable, the school secretary, was sorting through yellow absence slips at her desk, her reading glasses sliding down her nose.
I stood by the trophy case, looking at the faded gold footballs from the nineteen-eighties. The metal felt cold when I brushed my sleeve against the frame.
When Diane finally came out of the office, she looked like she had slept in her clothes. Her hair was pulled back in a hasty knot, and her coat was missing a button near the collar.
Her hands were clasped tightly in front of her gray wool coat, her fingers locking together so hard the knuckles were white.
“I brought some soup for you to take to the hospital,” I said, holding out the thermos.
Diane stopped three feet away, her boots coming to a sharp halt on the red tile floor. She did not reach for the plastic handle right away.
Her eyes looked small and tired, surrounded by dark circles that makeup could not hide.
“We have plenty of food, Clara,” she said, her voice rapid and high.
“It is just soup, Diane. You need something real to eat between those shifts.”
“The hospital cafeteria has soup,” she said, interrupting me before I could finish. “It costs two dollars and they have fresh rolls in the morning. I don’t have time to heat up soup.”
“But this is home-made,” I said. “I thought it might save you a trip to the basement line.”
