Pieces of Hate by Ray Garton Page A

muttered, leaning back in his chair and reaching under his white coat. When he pulled his hand out, it held a small black beeper, which spoke to him in a pinched female voice: “Dr. Plummer — 4-East, room four-fourteen, stat. 4-East, room four fourteen stat.”
    He stood quickly, replacing the beeper beneath his white coat as he said, “I’m very sorry. I’ve got to go. I’ll be able to find you in Lynda’s room, right?”
    “Yes.”
    “Good. I want to finish this conversation. I want to hear your story.”
    He turned and rushed out of the cafeteria.
    Left alone at the table, Margaret sipped her coffee, giggled a few more times, then went to the vending machines to see what they had to offer.
    If Lynda could get through that steak sandwich, then she’d be hungry again, and Margaret wanted to make sure there were plenty of goodies available . . .
     
    15
     
    “So, does he have the hots for you, or what?” Lynda asked. She was lying back on the upright bed, her knees drawn up, watching television. On the far side of the bed, on a rectangular wheeled table, was a crumpled, grease-stained bag, several wadded napkins, and an empty plastic cup with a straw sticking out of the lid.
    Margaret walked into the room with an armload of junk food. “He just wanted to talk, so you can stop any match-making you had in mind right now.”
    “What’s all that stuff?”
    “Well . . . how was the steak sandwich?” She dumped everything onto the bed table.
    “It was absolutely delicious!” Lynda said with a small growl of pleasure in her voice. “I loved it! And you know what? Nobody’s gonna believe this, especially Dr. Turner, but . . . I’m still hungry.”
    “For what?”
    “I don’t know. Something . . . sweet.”
    Margaret began to look through the pile of stuff she’d brought with her. “Something sweet, huh? Well, I’ve got M&M’s, a Milky Way, a Hershey bar and a Nestle’s Crunch.”
    Lynda grinned. “You did that for me?”
    “Sure. I figured if you were hungry, I’d be heading down to the cafeteria sooner or later, anyway.”
    “Hershey bar! Gimme, gimme!”
    Lynda tore the wrapping from the bar.
    Margaret had been thinking all the way back up to 4-East. Dr. Plummer had said that the cancer was gone. But did that mean it would stay gone? Not necessarily. She was determined to maintain as much physical contact with Lynda as possible until she was certain that the threat of death had passed.
    “Aside from the candy,” Margaret said, “I brought two sub sandwiches, two bags of chips, two bagels with cream cheese and two Hostess fruit pies. All from cafeteria vending machines, so don’t expect a whole lot. You have no idea how people stared at me on the way back up here, my arms loaded with loose junk food and candy, like I was trying to find a place to sit down and binge, or something.”
    “Sub sandwiches?” she asked after biting into the candy bar. “You brought sub sandwiches? Oh, you’re a Godsend! And potato chips? I can’t tell you how happy you’ve made me.”
    “There’s just one thing. Before you get any of this other stuff, you have to agree to something.”
    Lynda looked at Margaret through narrow eyes as she chewed slowly. “Are we going to be holding hands some more?”
    “That’s right.”
    “I’ll make you a deal,” Lynda said with a smile. “We’ll hold hands if you promise you’ll go to Daphne’s this afternoon and get a knock-out dress for the reunion.”
    Margaret laughed and said, “You still want me to go to that damned thing?”
    “If you don’t, I’ll be pissed. You’ve got a lot to show off. If I could go with you, I would, just to watch the reactions. So, do we have a deal?”
    “Deal.”
    “You’ll leave one hand free, won’t you?”
    “What do you mean?”
    “So I can eat, whatta you think!”
    Laughing, Margaret wrapped her right hand around Lynda’s left hand and nodded . . .
     
    16
     
    Dr. Plummer came into the room, hurried and