Will hungrily dove into the delicious Chinese food, amazed at how good it felt to eat. He hadn't eaten all day, unless Mylanta and Tylenol pilfered from the nursing station could be counted as a meal, and the sensation of eating now was bordering on orgasmic. Or maybe it was because he was sharing his sofa with the beautiful woman who had brought him this feast.
Despite being so tired for so long that he couldn't remember what it felt like to be fully alert, he'd gotten his second wind earlier this evening when he received Lynn's text asking if he was still able to have dinner tonight. He had already been on his way out of the hospital, just about to call her, when her carefully worded message had come through. In contrast to the typical text that seemed designed primarily to convince the recipient of the sender's intellectual disability, the words seemed chosen to not sound demanding, or needy, or to leave any concern that the sender would be disappointed if dinner didn't work out tonight. On the contrary, Will had been working steadily all day, foregoing breaks and meals to ensure that he could honor his dinner invitation to Lynn.
He'd had to endure a pointless conversation with an attending who had engaged him outside of the hospital on his way to the train station, feeling almost physical pain at having to choose words to speak while sounding cheerful and attentive. When he finally had enough privacy among strangers, he'd relished the sound of Lynn's voice over the phone as they'd arranged for her to meet him at his apartment with the food. Just talking to her about food had felt pornographic, as his desire for her and his desire to eat merged in his mind.
Compared to Will, Lynn seemed engaged in some activity other than eating, the contents of her carryout container barely shifting from the movements of her chopsticks. Will suddenly felt self-conscious. "Sorry, I'm making a pig of myself, but it just feels so good to eat. I think I need a beer, would you like one, or some water, or I have some Cane Cola."
"Just some water would be nice," said Lynn, trying to choose the most ladylike choice. She frequently found herself struggling to behave the way she thought Will expected her to, then chastising herself for assuming she knew what Will expected her to do. It was confusing. "Or maybe a beer." She wasn't sure if she'd heard him, so she went into the kitchen.