Lisa Schroeder - The Bridge from You to Me

“I’ll take two of those pumpkin spice,” I tell her.

She raises her eyebrows. “Really? Well, what do you know, a guy after my own heart. Those are my favorite.”

As she bags up my doughnuts, all the nervous feelings I felt last night come rushing back. It’s crazy how much nerve it took to ask her out and now I have to find even more, except this time, there’s nothing good waiting at the end of it all.

She hands me the bag, and I give her a five-dollar bill.

“Lauren, I have some bad news.”

As she gives me my change, her smile disappears. “Oh no. Is it Benny?”

“No, nothing like that. It’s just, I have to cancel. I can’t make it tonight. Something’s come up. I’m really sorry.”

“Oh. Right.” She crosses her arms. “I’m sorry too.” She pinches her lips together like she’s deciding if she should say more. I wait, because I don’t know what else to say. “Can we reschedule?” she asks.

God, I want to say yes. I almost say yes. But what am I gonna do, lie and sneak around behind my dad’s back? I can’t do that. Besides, maybe they’re right. Maybe Benny and my dad are right. Too many distractions, and I can’t focus. I don’t want to let my team down. It was too close yesterday.

My eyes stare at the register. “Probably not until the season’s over.” I meet her eyes again. “I’m really sorry, Lauren.”

Another customer comes through the front door. “Yeah,” she says. “Me too.” She looks past me and says hello to the person who’s just walked in. That’s my cue to leave.

I hold the bag up. “Thanks,” I say. “I’ll see you around.”

“See ya later,” she says, not even looking at me.

As I leave, I glance at a picture hanging on the wall. It says YOU CAN’T BUY HAPPINESS, BUT YOU CAN BUY DOUGHNUTS,

AND THAT’S KIND OF THE SAME THING.

Man, I wish that were true. Because although I’m leaving with two doughnuts, I am not leaving happy, that’s for sure.

Sunday afternoon, I head to the hospital. When I ask if Benjamin Lewis can have visitors, I’m thrilled that the lady tells me he can, and directs me to his room.

I take the elevator to the fourth floor and am walking down the hall, toward room 412, when his mom steps out.

She pulls me into a hug when I reach her. “So good to see you, Colby. Before you go in there, let’s talk for a minute.”

We walk out to the small waiting area.

“How’s he doing?” I ask as we sit down.

“He’s talking some, which is great. They say that will improve every day now. But he has a lot of work to do.”

“Work? Like what?”

She lets out a long breath. “He’s going to have to relearn most everything — how to walk, how to brush his teeth, how to put his pants on. You know, everything we do without thinking about it and take for granted.”

I look down at my lap and close my eyes. She can’t be saying this. I don’t want her to be saying this. I don’t know what I was expecting. A miracle, maybe.

She continues. “Soon we’ll have to move him to a rehabilitation center. We’re trying to decide what to do. The best one in the country is all the way in Atlanta, Georgia. Insurance would pay for most of it, but one of us would have to take time off from work so we could go with him. And living apart, with only one income, I’m just not sure we can do it.”

I look up. “I had no idea. I thought he’d go home with you. I guess I didn’t know . . . how bad it really is.”

She pats my arm. “I know. I wish he could go home too. But no.” She looks at me, tears welling up. “He might not seem like the same Benny, but he’s in there. Don’t worry if he doesn’t say much to you, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Russ can hardly stand to see him like this. He’s only been by once since he woke up. He’s pretty upset about the whole thing. I guess what I’m trying to say is, I know it’s hard. But it’s important for him to know we’re behind him.”

She sits up straight and blinks a few times before she smiles. “I’m so glad you’re here. Are you ready?”

“Yeah. I’m ready.”

When I walk into the room, there are cards and flowers spread out everywhere. Benny’s in his bed, watching television. He’s wearing a knit hat, with a big bandage around his head that the hat doesn’t fully cover. Mr. Lewis gets up from the chair he’s sitting in and shakes my hand. “Thanks for coming, Colby. I know Benny’s glad to see you.”

“Not as glad as I am to see him,” I say.

He sits back down, and I turn to Benny. “Hey, man. How’s it going?”

“Okay,” he says slowly. Methodically.

I look at Mrs. Lewis, suddenly aware of how awkward this is. What am I supposed to say? Does he want to hear about the team, or will that make things worse? The last thing I want to do is depress him because he’s in here and I’m out there, playing the game he loves more than anything else in the world.