The Doorstep Diaries, Day 33

The boy is feeling better. Hooray.

It is nice to see him sitting up I guess, a little color back in the cheeks. Balloons around the bed. Cookies abound. Late last night he even made it all the way through Twilight. Not that good, for the record. Plus, vampires. I'm sorry, I just don't get the obsession. Plus teenagers. What a horrible age.

On the plus side, Sally has been coming around dressed to the nines. That's part of that acceptance, once everyone understands there's nothing to do but celebrate. No more sweatpants. Skirts, blouses, make up. Bras.

Grandpa's been around, too. He’s brought pastrami sandwich the past three days. What a guy. Spirits are high. I wonder when I'll be coming for him. Old people are a pleasure though. Ready to go, itching to go.

It is strange though. He woke up on Sunday. Over the rest of the weekend he mostly slept. But Sunday, with Sally there, with the balloons there, with the father and the grandpa, even Nurse dropped by for a few minutes, everyone was celebrating quietly as you celebrate these things: chatting, keeping it light, when the boy drew Sally close.

It wasn't a subtle move. He drew her close with his arm and whispered something to her. Everyone stopped talking, it was very public that he was telling her a secret. Sally looked somber, a little disbelieving almost. Maybe a little hardened. It wasn't
a good look for her. I'll tell you that. She sat up and cleared her throat.
Everyone stared.

"I'll tell you later," she said. "Anything on the tele?"

It took a while for the conversation to pick up after that. There was nothing on the tele.

Blackbean soup today.