Chapter Thirty-Four
David sat anxiously in the waiting room of Mount Sinai Hospital’s emergency radiology department, his knee bouncing up and down.
He had called in every favor he had, from every doctor he knew, in order to get his ex-wife a diagnostic blood test, an MRI and a CT scan with contrast. Despite his past mistakes, he would make sure she had the best possible care.
He shifted in his seat, the guilt over how their relationship ended returning. He wasn’t being visited by eight specters over Hanukkah, but he could understand how revisiting a memory could break your heart. The last time he had been in this hospital, they had lost April.
“Dr. Adler?” A nurse appeared in the threshold.
“That’s me.” David rose from his spot.
“She’s all done now.” The nurse smiled comfortingly. “If you’d like, you can go in and wait with her. Room twenty-three.”
David wasted no time in finding his ex-wife.
Entering her room, he saw she was sleeping soundly on the hospital bed.
The television was playing without sound in front of her.
He took a seat beside her bed, moving the bed tray out of the way, making sure she still had access to the plastic bottle of ice water that had been sitting upon it.
Then his eyes flicked up to the monitor beeping out vitals.
Her pulse was steady, her heart rate strong. She was going to be okay. She had to be okay. He couldn’t imagine a world without her.
Evelyn blinked her eyes open. “Hey,” she said quietly.
David scooted forward. “Hey. How you feeling?”
“Great,” she said weakly. “They gave me extra migraine medication.”
He attempted to jest. “All that rationing for nothing, huh?”
“For nothing.” She nodded.
He reached over and took her hand. Grief was such a powerful force. It twisted your mind, filled you with sorrow. It made you desperate to believe that your memories could be turned back into reality. But there couldn’t be grief without love.
“I’m scared,” she said finally.
David nodded. “Me, too.”
Loss was a part of life. As a doctor, he knew this intimately. Accepting that hard fact didn’t make the heartbreak any easier. David squeezed her hand—a show of support—but he stopped short of promising her forever. If love had been enough, they would have survived losing April.
“David,” a voice called to him from the threshold.
He looked up to see his old friend from medical school, wearing a white coat and holding a laptop beneath one arm.
He rose to greet him. “John,” David said, shaking his friend’s hand, and the two men spent a brief moment catching up on the last few years.
While David had gone into orthopedic medicine, Dr. John Kennecott had become a neurologist.
“I really appreciate you coming in tonight,” David said.
“Of course,” John replied, and turned his attention to Evelyn. “And you must be the wife?”
“Ex-wife,” Evelyn corrected him.
“Oh.” His eyes flitted between them. “Well, that’s awkward as hell . . . but also, clearly none of my business. But good for you two for staying friends! Better for the kids and all, right?”
Evelyn smiled politely, but neither of them bothered to correct him.
Finally, John took a seat and opened the laptop.
“So,” he said, clicking buttons. “Blood work looks good. You maybe need a little more calcium in your diet, but nothing visible there that really should be causing the headaches, or visual hallucinations. As for the MRI, that seems to be clear, as well . . . and oh, wow . . .”
“What?” Evelyn gaped. “What is it?”
“Sorry,” he said, clicking another button. “Just got my first pick player for my fantasy football league . . .”
Evelyn’s face contorted. “Seriously?”
David motioned with one hand to give the doctor a minute. Despite his horrible bedside manner, he was one the best neurologists in Manhattan. He had also done them both a favor by coming in past 10:00 p.m. on a Tuesday.
“Anyway,” John continued, “the CT scan looked good. No lesions. No tumors. No sign of intracranial bleeding or structural anomalies brought on by infection. You, my dear, have a very healthy-looking brain. So, between the bloodwork, the MRI and the CT scan, I’m going to deliver my final verdict.
Congratulations. You are perfectly healthy.
If there’s nothing else I can do for you two tonight, we’ll get you checked out of here and on your way home. ”
The room fell into silence. It was great news—way better than David had expected to hear, given the trajectory of her symptoms—but it also provided no answers. His glee over the news faded quickly. Something was wrong with Evelyn, obviously. But what?
David turned back to John. “I suppose we’re both just a little surprised.
Evelyn has been having these episodes . .
. these hallucinations, all week long. And while she’s prone to migraines, these seem beyond the pale of anything I’ve ever experienced as both a medical physician and a person who knows her intimately. ”
“Hm.” John sighed heavily. “Well, I do understand your concern, given the description of what’s been happening, but again, as a neurologist, there’s nothing I can see happening in the brain that would explain the phenomenon.
That doesn’t mean it’s not happening, though.
Sometimes, in these situations, we think a situation is physical when really it may be something psychological.
Stress, for instance. Or an unresolved trauma.
If you two would like, I can refer you to some excellent—”
Evelyn interrupted him. “So, we’re done here?”
John blinked, surprised. Evelyn was full-on seething in the man’s direction. David shifted his weight and attempted to play mediator. “Maybe we should just let Dr. Kennecott finish what he was saying. He might know someone—”
It was pointless. Evelyn ended the argument by rising from her bed, tearing off heart monitor pads, gathering up her belongings. David barely had enough time to thank his old colleague for his efforts before following Evelyn into the hall.
Evelyn exploded through the admissions door of the hospital and onto Lexington Avenue.
“Evelyn,” David said, trailing after her, catching her gently by the elbow. “Please. Let’s talk for a minute.”
She pulled away from him. “I’m not crazy!”
“I didn’t say you were.”
“But you think I am,” she snapped back at him. “You and that hack masquerading as a medical professional in there . . . you think it’s all in my head. You think I’m making this all up.”
David didn’t believe she was being visited by eight heartbreaks of Hanukkah.
He was far more convinced that she was having some sort of traumatic break, brought on by April’s unresolved death and his return to Manhattan.
Still, he knew his ex-wife enough to know that she believed it .
. . and so, what other choice did he have?
He wanted to get her help. Whether that help would be a psychiatrist or an exorcist was still to be decided.
“I believe you,” he said.
She blinked. “Really?”
“Yes.”
“I’m so glad to hear you say that.”
She threw her arms around his neck, surprising him. Despite the chill of the winter air surrounding them, she was warm. Familiar. Even though—he did a quick double-sniff of her hair—she kind of smelled like a chicken coop.
She released him, and then quickly returned to the Evelyn he knew and always loved. The fierce and determined fighter. The take-no-crap-from-anyone, ever, woman warrior. She began pacing back and forth on the sidewalk, talking as if developing a plan.
“Now, what I’m thinking,” she said, gesticulating wildly with her hands, “is that tomorrow evening is the eighth night of Hanukkah. The seventh heartbreak has already appeared, which means, if I can get the eighth ghost to just put off haunting me until after the broadcast . . .”
“Wait.” David flinched and pulled back. “You’re thinking about work?”
“Of course I’m thinking about work,” she said, offended. “The biggest night of my career is approaching in less than twenty-four hours, and we’ve all seen how this show ends. With me confronted by a super-scary Hanukkah goblin, who shows me my last and greatest heartbreak . . . you.”
“Me?” He was taken aback. Evelyn, meanwhile, kept rambling.
“I can just see my great demise now,” she said, growing more agitated.
“Our live-action musical of A Christmas Carol is almost done, and everything is going perfectly, everyone is already talking about all the Primetime Emmy Awards we’re going to win for this production .
. . and then, just at the last number, the closing act, I go running onto stage and admit everything.
That I still love you. That I still want you in my life.
That I’ll do anything just for a second chance between us.
And then, the grand gesture! I quit the job I fought so hard for my entire life .
. . and off we go, into some happily-ever-after, where I live on your farm, raising rescue chickens and going antique shopping on Sundays. ”
David didn’t know what to say. Fragments of words floated through his brain, nonsensical.
I still love you. I still want you in my life.
I’ll do anything just for a second chance between us.
And yet she didn’t sound overjoyed about the happy ending.
Indeed, getting back together sounded like something she was trying very hard to avoid.
The air in his chest hollowed out into an empty huff. “Would that really be so bad?”
Her eyes went wide. “Yes!”
She was unreal. He shook his head, frustrated, a million thoughts, a million feelings rushing through him, until finally, his heart was simply broken.
He caught on her gaze once more, the pressure in his chest threatening to suffocate him.
The same tenacious spirit he had fallen in love with would always be her downfall.
David turned on his heel.
“Hey,” Evelyn said, chasing after him. “Where are you going?”
“Home. Back to Vikram’s apartment.”