The smell hits me and makes my mouth water. A warm, salty-broth aroma wafts through the air, overpowering the chemical smells of the emergency room.
The curtain pulls back, and a new person waltzes in with a glowing smile. “Good morning, young Mr. Jaxon. Everyone calls me Nurse Sheila.”
Reticent—inclined to be silent or uncommunicative in speech.
It’s another good word, and my reticence crumbles in the face of her cheerfulness. She’s a larger woman in outlandishly colorful scrubs. Her voice is warm and cheerful, wrapped with an infectious laugh. I can stay silent against the deputy and the doctor, but I can’t resist her. “You’re another nurse?”
“Why, yes, sir. Or at least I was. Or maybe I still am. Oh, I don’t know. I retired and stayed home all of about three weeks and was bored out of my mind, so I came back here as a volunteer. When I heard a young man had been in this emergency room all morning and hadn’t eaten because they were waiting on the cafeteria to open up, I knew where I was needed. So call me whatever you like, but I’ve got food.”
She places a steaming hot bowl, the source of that mouthwatering smell, in front of me. “This here is my chicken-noodle soup. None of that store-bought stuff for you. No, sir. Vegetables from my garden, canned for the winter months. Chickens that hunt and peck in my backyard until they stop producing enough eggs. Even the noodles, I make by hand. My grandchildren”— she says “gran-chitlin”—“beg for this when they come visit.”
I inhale deeply as I reach forward to grab the bowl.
“Careful, honey, or you’ll burn yourself. Can you handle the spoon with that IV? Or are you left-handed?”
I study my bandaged left hand and the IV line snaking out of my right hand. “I don’t really know if I’m left-handed.”
She cocks her head. “Which hand do you usually hold your spoon with?”
“I’ve never held a spoon. We didn’t have them.”
“Lordy.” She sits in the chair and slaps her hands on her meaty thighs. “Forks neither?”
I shook my head.
“Lordy,” she repeats, wrapping her fingers around my spoon. “Well, I don’t want you hurting that hand no more, so whatcha say I feed ya?”
I can only nod in confusion as she fills the spoon, holds it in the air, then leans forward to let me sip it. When the liquid flows into my mouth, the flavors explode. I close my eyes and hum in satisfaction. The broth is rich and salty, filled with shredded chicken, thick egg noodles, and chopped carrots, celery, and onion. I’ve never tasted anything so wonderful.
Within minutes, I hear the clank of the spoon on the bottom of the empty bowl. I flop back against my pillow and smile. “That was delicious. Thank you.”
“Why, you’re welcome, young Mr. Jaxon. You still hungry?”
I can’t remember anyone ever asking me that question, at least not anybody who could actually do anything about it. He certainly never cared or asked. No way can I get more. “I’m okay.”
She squints then bursts into her big smile. “You just being polite, ain’t ya, boy? You just give me five minutes, and I’ll be back with something else. And you’re gonna love it.”
I lie on my pillow with my eyes closed and listen to my stomach gurgle. The deputy’s sandwiches were good, but that soup was heaven. I can’t imagine what other delicacies await.
The curtain swoops open again, and Nurse Sheila reenters with a steaming sandwich on a paper towel. She sets it down in front of me, and a rich buttery smell fills the air. “Now it ain’t much, but my grandchildren”—“granchitlins” is a word I’ve really got to look up in a dictionary—“love my grilled-cheese sandwiches. Lordy, my own kids are grown, and they love my grilled cheese. Ain’t no slices, neither, because it’s all shredded to make it melt nice and smooth. Extra-sharp cheddar for flavor, American for that gooeyness to hold it all together, and just a touch of mozzarella for stringiness. And, of course, a good swipe of mayonnaise—gotta be Duke’s, cause there ain’t no other kind. And a thick slab of butter on the outside of the bread before throwing it all in a cast iron skillet. And yes, sir, I keep all those supplies down in the volunteer break room.”
I barely know anything she’s saying since we never had cheese, much less types of cheese. If he couldn’t grow it, harvest it, or hunt it, we didn’t have it. But when I bite into that steaming sandwich, the rich, melty goo explodes in a rainbow of taste. I close my eyes and chew slowly, both wanting to swallow to fill my grumbling belly and not wanting to swallow so I can keep that enchanting flavor on my tongue.
“Do you like it?”
“Oh yes, ma’am. It’s… it’s… I don’t want it to end.”
“No hurry here, Mr. Jaxon. You just take your time. Best part of being retired is I ain’t got nowhere to be.” She settles into the chair and begins humming. She isn’t going to try to take my food if I don’t finish it quickly. No rats poke their heads up, hoping to steal some crumbs. I bet I could even set the sandwich down on my tray, and it would stay there, waiting for me to pick it up again. Pure luxury. With each bite, I close my eyes and feel deliciousness engulf my mouth.
All too soon, only crumbs remain on the napkin. I pick up as many as I can with the fingers of my good hand and swallow them. I never know when the next meal will come.
“I take it you liked it, young Mr. Jaxon?”
“Yes, ma’am, best meal I’ve ever had.”
“Oh, honey. That’s just a simple sandwich. We’ll get you a real breakfast shortly, as soon as the cafeteria opens up.”
Startled, I look at her in surprise. “Another grilled cheese?”
“Well, no, a man can’t live on grilled cheese alone, though I guess he could try. How about some scrambled eggs and bacon and grits and toast all whipped up special for you? Then maybe I’ll make you another grilled cheese for lunch. How does that sound to ya?”
“Wow.” I lie down on the pillow and smile. “I’ve never had such good food.”
“What about your mama? Didn’t she cook for you?”
I roll my head so I can see her. “I don’t remember.”
She clasps her hands together. “You don’t remember what she used to cook for you?”
“No, ma’am.” I shake my head. “I don’t remember her at all.”
She turns her head away from me, but not before I see tears fill her eyes.