Chapter Fifty
It was a stroke, the nurse said. That was all I understood before she went back into the emergency treatment room.
I paced the waiting room. My mind was restless.
Were Mama and my daughters still at dinner?
Had Philip’s friends at the restaurant served them the usual free crabcakes?
Would the station wagon be towed? My thoughts wandered in tortured circles, fixating on every possible wrinkle in the evening except for the actual one that had torn it apart: Philip.
Some time later, a doctor found me in the waiting room.
He cornered me and started talking, not stopping until he realized I had trouble understanding.
He slowed down, saying “sorry” and “don’t speak Chinese,” and that was all I grasped before an interpreter came.
She was short, with bouncy curls that young people wore these days.
Too cheerful for the somber news her job required her to deliver.
Philip had suffered a stroke, she confirmed, but the doctor found concerning signs of a chest infection, so they wanted to run some tests. He was breathing easier with oxygen, she added. She asked if I had any questions.
“Thank you,” I heard myself say. My voice wasn’t mine anymore. “He go home, okay?”
“Not yet,” said the doctor. He gave me a worried look. “Is there someone you can call, Mrs. Yuen?”
“No need,” I said. I mumbled a lie about living close by, but the truth was I needed to get away. My skin prickled, a million pinpoints opening from my pores. I needed to find heat before I disappeared.
I threw my jacket on and hurried for the exit. The fresh air was a shock of cold. I could feel my blood shimmering, my steps barely making a sound against the pavement.
My car was still there. I shut myself inside, jammed the key in the ignition, and turned on the heater to full blast.
Calm, I told myself. Calm down.
A napkin Philip had left on the dashboard tumbled onto my lap, and I picked it up.
It was damp. I expected to feel a wad of gum folded inside, but there was no gum, only a splotch of dark, drying blood.
Why hadn’t he told me he was sick? Now he was in the hospital, breathing through a tube.
I threw the car into gear. I didn’t know where I was going, but anywhere was better than here.
I didn’t see the red traffic light, or the car hurtling toward me.
An instant before it hit me, I held my breath—and disappeared.