The Golden Couple

Chap. 24

"Are you ready?" Bryce asked me, holding his completed painting in his hands.

He'd been given an extension on his Childhood Dreams piece in art, seeing as though he'd missed a few days after getting sick on chemo.

I nodded, eagerly.

He flipped his painting around to me.

He was just about as good of an artist as me, but we managed to figure each other's artwork out.

He'd painted the sky, and in it was what resembled an airplane with a little guy inside.

"A pilot?" I asked.

He nodded.

"That's so cute."

"I thought it was a hot dog," Steven commented.

"Well you can't really comment," I said, without looking at him. "Because even Ms. Jacobs thought your childhood dream was to be Baymax from Big Hero 6."

Bryce chuckled right as the bell rang, signaling for class change.

Bryce checked his phone as we left class together, wrapping his free hand around mine.

He let out a frustrated sigh.

"What's the matter?" I asked.

"My mom."

Always.

"What's up?"

"What are you doing after class?"

"After this class?"

He shook his head. "All classes today."

"So after school?"

He nodded.

"I think I have to pick up my mom's dry cleaning or something, why?"

"My mom can't take me to therapy."

Wow, so now work was more important than her son's speech therapy. Nice.

"I can take you," I promised, squeezing his hand. "My mom's dry cleaning isn't a pressing matter."

The left side of his mouth tilted up into a smile as he used his free hand to text his mom back.

~*~

I hate waiting rooms.

There weren't too many people in the waiting room, but it was just the waiting part.

Bryce's speech therapy was only an hour, but I hadn't known I was taking him to therapy ahead of time, so I hadn't brought anything to do.

So I was stuck watching the local news channel they kept playing on the small TV and reading the magazines they kept on the various tables.

Neither of which were too entertaining.

I checked my phone again, but I still had no service.

It was official. Bryce needed to find a new speech therapist.

The door opened, and my eyes lit up, but a young girl walked out, greeted by her mother.

I let out a sigh, my eyes shifting over to the analog clock on the wall.

Time was moving so slowly.

67 seconds later, the door opened again, and Bryce came out, a smile stretched from ear-to-ear across his face.

That was definitely new.

"Hey," I said, standing up.

"Hey," he greeted, wrapping his hand around mine.