My day started with the expectation to meet a friend at my favorite French cafe and buy Alexandra macaroons.

But K called me and changed everything: “Keith’s in the hospital. He’s only got a day or two, maybe a week. I’m going to see him.”

I canceled my plans and booked a train to New York City to see my good friends K and Keith.

With just enough time to get to the station and grab lunch, I checked the status of my train. “Delayed.”

Every train before and after mine–all delayed. There was no telling what was going on.

If Keith wanted to see me as much as I wanted to see him, he’d wait, even with the delays. Right? But before I could overthink it, my train changed from Delayed to Boarding.

Mine was the only train departing the station. I didn’t believe it was so until the train started moving, and I dared to look at my watch–we were only 10 minutes late.

And then I had the train ride to let the truth sink in: this would be the last time I’d ever see Keith.

*

We met at a now-defunct company that essentially paid us to become friends. We’d convene in Keith’s office, the tape room, and laughed at K’s stories until someone needed to get back to work or the boss returned.

Keith might have looked like a bouncer, but he never stopped being a preacher’s son, and he’d wrap up our meetings saying something profound like, “If it’s a lessin, it’s a blessin.”

And when I came back to work all aglow after my plane ride where I first met Alex, I went directly to Keith’s office. Keith saw that I had serious business to discuss, so he motioned down the hall to K to come quick. Board meeting.

We huddled behind the closed door. I said, “I sat next to this hot guy on the plane. He was going to visit his girlfriend, but I gave him my number as a friend.”

And Keith said, “Trust me, that guy is not looking for a friendship.”

But there was still the matter of the three-day rule, a theory my roommate had developed. If a guy’s interested, he’ll call in three days.

Keith laughed. He’d never thought of it quite that way before, but speaking on behalf of guys, he agreed with that rule. So K and Keith were placing all bets he’d call on Wednesday.

I wasn’t so sure.

If only time could stand still like it did in that tape room.

*

K and I got to the hospital, and our walk down memory lane stopped. We stood in line, and when it was our turn, we waited for what seemed like an eternity to see if we could go up. But the receptionist let us go up anyway.”Room 401 South. Just take Elevator G.”

K and I took the first elevator we saw. He was so close. Was there any reason to look for such a specific elevator? We got off on the fourth floor. Right or left? We walked to the right like we knew where we were going.

We ended up in a waiting room, where people go for appointments. And I said to the lady behind the counter, “But where are the real patients?”

Elevator G, of course, Only where was Elevator G? To the right.

*

Keith and K were right. Alex did call. It was 9 pm, the latest possible hour on the last possible day. We talked for over an hour and lost track of time when we decided it was better to talk over dinner.

Of course, that meant that Alex would be picking me up after work. So Keith had a field day with that. “Take it from me; you had an hour conversation after he just saw his girlfriend this weekend? Not to mention he called within three days. This guy likes you.”

Keith always had my back. K’s too. This time, Keith needed us.

*

We needed to find Keith. So we asked some ladies who said when you think you’ve gone too far, don’t worry; keep going. Only we went too far, and there were elevators with every letter of the alphabet, but no G.

We passed the cafeteria, back offices, and outpatient radiology like we were employees walking the tunnels underneath Disney World.

Finally, we found the Elevator G service elevators. “That’ll work,” I said.

K refused to use them, “We’re not hospital personnel.”

Luckily I found Elevator G around the corner.

*

Alex got off the elevator to pick me up, and Keith had the security camera’s live feed on one of the monitors. We watched Alex stop at the front desk and get buzzed in the glass door.

Meanwhile, Keith said, “He’s wearing jeans. Does this guy even work? “I’m going to have to check this guy out for myself.”

So the three of us walked out to meet Alex. I introduced them. K and Keith hovered in the reception area, looking as conspicuous as possible, while Alex and I tried to leave.

Keith smiled, that smile of his that made you feel like he knew something that you didn’t–everything would turn out okay.

And the next day, Keith surprised me with a video copy of Alex on the security camera.

Oh, when the bosses were away!

And when Alex and I got engaged five months later, I walked into the tape room, and Keith said, “Stop right there. That ring is blinding me.”

But Keith’s beautiful smile lit up the room way more than my ring ever could.

*

I needed to see Keith’s smile once more. We finally got off on the fourth floor. We wound around more halls and got to the west building. Could it be? We finally made it!

*

Dad was never good with names, but Dad never could forget Keith. Keith made my Dad’s wedding speech.

“I felt like a player on the sidelines, like a player saying I’ll do Anything–Anything at all. I’m here for you, coach.”

“There is something you can do for me,” I said.

“Anything. What can I do?” Dad asked.

“Call Keith. Give him my pick for the fantasy football league,” I said.

*

But that was just a west wing fantasy. We had some more walking to do to get to the south building. And then, finally, we found Room 401. Keith, at last.

Ah, yes, a corner room with the woman he loves watching over him–trying to get him warm. And the most beautiful view of the river; if only that could have mattered.

He looked like an astronaut with one of those puffy bags to keep him warm and a blanket overtop. And there was his face and that most magnificent smile.

K said, “No matter what, your teeth still look great. You could have been a model.”

She had been tuning up her jokes all day in anticipation of this moment. We told funny stories in a tape room without windows; surely we could also warm up this sterile environment with a river view.

He laughed and then curled up like a baby, with his eyes flickering.

I couldn’t joke. K would prompt me sometimes, hit me, and I’d ask something stupid, “You’re not in any pain?”

No. No pain. The three of us were together again.

K kept hitting me while I stared at Keith’s beautiful bald head. He always had the physique of a statue. He never had hair, come to think of it, all those 25 years K and I knew him.

Keith’s partner left to give us time alone. He was cold, so we tried to keep him warm and adjust him in the bed the way she had. He couldn’t get comfortable. He was itching.

So K asked, “What are you doing down there?’

He said, “I’m itching my leg.” And he looked at her like don’t mess with me. A lot of Keith’s most famous deliveries came with that look.

It felt like we were back in Keith’s office again with the boss away.

Keith said, “How’s Alex? Tell him I was asking about him.” And then he had a revelation. “You know, after all these years, you stayed together.”

I still have the tape of Alex on the security cam that Keith dubbed for me. We sliced it into our wedding video.

Keith said he didn’t want to go. I could tell he wasn’t ready, even though physically he was–maybe he’d have a week more. So we prayed together. I did the sign of the cross on his forehead the way Alex’s parents always do to us. I told him many times, “I love you.”

God, do I love him. It’s so hard to let him go.

*

When I learned I had cancer, Keith was going through hard times, too. He had been on dialysis since his kidney transplant failed years before that, and he had an infection that cost him some of his toes.

K was the first to call and talk me off the ledge. Then she told Keith to contact me.

Keith called me next. And after talking to him, losing my hair seemed like nothing compared to losing his toe, He made me believe I could get through cancer, and because of Keith and K, I did.

Without kidneys and some toes, his heart is what gave Keith away. He only had 20%. As K said, “His heart was just too big. He’d loved too much.”

Keith’s dear loved one returned with soup. Even though it sickened him, he tried to eat to hold on as long as he could for her.

Someone called. He could barely hold the phone up to speak. The question must have been, “When are you getting out?” And Keith said, “I’m not. Room 401 South. That’s where I’ll be.”

I’ll always find him there.

He cracked a few excellent jokes so that K couldn’t have the last laugh. It came from great depth, but Keith’s smile with style lit up Room 401 South which he found so unbearably cold.

And I’ll always find him in his office in the now-defunct company where we got paid to become friends.

We met at the most unlikely of places and became the most unlikely of friends.

We left, and I broke down on that NYC street, and K had to hug me and pull me back. Back to life.

We walked down the street in a daze until we stumbled upon an Italian cafe, Bon Ami.

Good friend. We went inside, and there we found the unexpected. Macaroons for Alexandra.