"A tie would look stupid with pajamas," he said to Brent. "But a rubber hose has class. Amy did say semiformal, after all."
Brent brushed his teeth twice and tried to straighten out his sheets.
At five of seven, Nurse Schultz arrived. She was much more pleasant than Nurse Rush. Brent always felt an almost physical relief when the day shift ended and the evening nurse arrived.
"I understand there's some visiting to be done. If you don't tell the nurse on duty, I won't tell either."
"Wagons, ho!" Kirk shouted. "Move'em out." He clomped toward the door on his crutches. Brent followed behind, Nurse Schultz pushing the bed.
Down the hall they paraded and across to Amy's room. Her door was closed.
Kirk knocked. "Avon calling," he said.
"Come in," Amy shouted back through the closed door.
Kirk pushed it open and walked inside. Nurse Schultz wheeled Brent's bed in. "Have a lovely evening," she said, and left, closing the door behind her.
Brent couldn't believe his eyes. He hadn't been to Amy's room before. He was amazed to see the jungle of plants hanging everywhere, the stands of plants, the tables of plants, the cascading ferns and spider plants.
All lit by candlelight. Seven burning candles had been placed around the room. The only electric light was the constantly lit night-light by Amy's bed. The warm candle glow filtered through the profusion of greenery. The vacant white of the walls disappeared in the dimness of the candlelight.
Amy was smiling.
"Welcome, gentlemen. You're right on time. I admire promptness in my dinner guests."
"So glad we could make it," Kirk said. He crossed the room and kissed Amy's hand.
"I'd stand up for a proper greeting," Brent said, "but I seem to have this standing problem at the moment."
"That's all right. I'm glad you've made yourself right at home."
Kirk sat in an easy chair and propped his crutches against the wall. Amy sat in the other chair.
She had pushed her bed against the far wall. In the center of the room, she had set the bedside table with a white cloth.
Brent noticed it and asked, "Where'd you get a tablecloth in a place like this?"
"It's a pillow case. Jewel stole it for me from the linen closet. I'm glad you like it."
"Lovely," said Kirk. "The table looks divine. I particularly like the Dixie cups."
"We must make do with what we have," Amy said. "Would either of you like a cocktail?"
"You've got to be kidding," said Brent.
"Make mine a double," replied Kirk.
Amy went to the Styrofoam pitcher that had been placed on the table. She poured the contents into three Dixie cups and handed one to Brent and one to Kirk. She took her own and returned to her chair.
"I propose a toast," said Kirk. "No matter what other crap goes on in this screwed-up world, to friends."
"How nicely put," said Amy. "You've got such a way with words."
They each took a sip.
"My God, what is this stuff? Aged scotch it's not," Kirk said.
"Due to the fact that I am underage and unable to get to the liquor store even if I were forty-seven, I improvised with what was on hand."
"Obviously," Kirk said.
"You don't like my little punch?" Amy asked. "It's brewed by Benedictine monks in a monastery just outside Perth Amboy, New Jersey."
"Great. What is it?"
"Coke and Welchade. It's all I could get my hands on. Has a certain unique pizzazz, wouldn't you say?"
"Unique is right," said Brent, drinking from his cup sideways, trying not to spill on his pillow. He didn't want to use one of those dumb bendable straws for a cocktail, even if it did taste like sludge.
"Dinner will be arriving presently, I believe. I gave instructions to the cook to have the first course ready just after seven."
"First course? How many are there?" Brent asked.
"One. But I ordered enough so you could have seconds."
"I can hardly wait," Kirk said. "If it's as good as the cocktail, I may barf."
"You, kind gentleman, are no gentleman. Nor are you kind. If you do not appreciate my cuisine, you are welcome to eat the regular hospital dinner. I believe you can still get it."
"Do you want to kill me?"
"It has crossed my mind once or twice," Amy laughed.
"Hey, Amy," Brent said, "I got a present for you. Kind of a housewarming present or something."
"Oh, thanks, Brent. That's nice of you."
Brent pulled the finished watercolor from under his sheet. He was pleased with the way it had turned out. He handed it over to Amy.
"Oh, Brent," Amy said. "It's beautiful. I didn't know you could paint."
Kirk leaned over and looked. "Wow," he said. "Not half bad. You could give Andrew Wyeth a run for his money."
"Thanks," said Brent. "It turned out all right, I guess. It's the first picture of a person I've ever tried."
"I love it, Brent. I know just where I'm going to put it."