The diner menu left a lot to be desired yet was the size of a novella.

“Don’t they have anything non-chicken-nuggetty here?” Trent scoffed.

“Non-chicken-nuggetty?” Trent’s best friend Esther replied.

“Yeah, like everything is fried and shaped. It’s like the whole menu is a walking kid’s meal.

”Esther rolled her eyes, attempting to refold the menu back into its more compact form. “Just get a salad or something, then.” This was the safest thing to suggest to Trent, she had found. It was just “adult food” enough to be passable most of the time.

“What are y’all gonna have?” The waitress appeared, startling the pair.“Just give me a salad,” Trent said.

“Whatever kind of salad you have.”Esther sighed, partially relieved. “And I’ll have the chicken nuggets.” She could feel Trent’s disdain, but she focused on the waitress.

“Thank you!”

“Really Esther?” Trent said.

“I knew it would piss you off.”They had been best friends for 20 years, having bonded in middle school over the fact they hated everyone else. And even though they lost touch in college, they had reunited when they both happened to visit their families at the same time. They still knew all the right buttons to push for each other and all their idiosyncrasies hadn’t changed since middle school.

“Have you developed a taste for chicken nuggets now that you have kids?” Trent faked throwing up as they said the word “kids” as if a plague had suddenly overcome them.

“They’re not so bad, really. The dinosaur-shaped ones taste better, though,” Esther scrunched her face in a teasing way.

Trent just threw back their head in exasperation. The salad arrived: tasteless iceberg with wisps of what could’ve been considered cucumbers, a couple tomatoes, and some croutons.

“I didn’t know what dressing to bring ya, so I brought ranch and Italian. I think those are the only two we have unless you want oil and vinegar,” The waitress grimaced.

“That’s fine, thanks,” Trent tried to smile.

“You gotta loosen up a bit,” Esther said.

“Let’s choose a song from the jukebox. Show me those moves.”

Trent laughed. “What moves?”

“You know…the moves!” Esther then went through a display of “The Shopping Cart”, “The Sprinkler,” “The Cabbage Patch,” and some that Trent didn’t even remember the names of.

“Alright, alright, I get it. You wanna dance. Let’s go,” Trent dragged themself out of the booth. They figured Esther would embarrass herself more than Trent ever could. And when Esther brought out “The Running Man” for “Jailhouse Rock”, Trent knew they had assumed correctly.

“But can I ride on the back?” Trent’s eyes welled, imagining themself cruising along on their mom Jessie’s wheelchair.

“Please don’t,” the doctor responded flatly.

Trent’s mom winked at them, almost to say, “We’ll find a way.” She turned to the doctor and nodded, “Is there anything else?”

The doctor shook her head and motioned for the nurse to come in before she left. The nurse leafed through Jessie’s chart before looking up at Jessie. “Nice wheels,” he said. “Looks like you’re all set to go. Just press this button right here to get your chair going, and you can increase or decrease the speed with this knob.” He handed an instruction manual to Jessie and exited as well.

“They have no bedside manner,” Trent huffed.“

What do you know about bedside manner?” Jessie retorted.

“That doctors are supposed to have it.

”Jessie ruffled Trent’s hair. “Let’s go, goofball.”

“Okay, but…” Trent began, desperation barely shielded from their voice, “Can I get a ride to the car?”

Jessie chuckled and shook her head. “You know I can’t say ‘no’ to you,” she barely got out before Trent was on the back, clinging on. Jessie powered up the chair and wheeled them both out of the office, the doctor’s disapproving glance searing into their backs.