Chapter 8
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I didn’t want her to worry.”
“She’s eight, Marcus. She would worry if she knew you were sick, but she would also know we were taking care of you.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
His head lowered.
“I know it now.”
I studied his profile.
“When did you know?”
He gave a tired smile that held no humor.
“About the same time you did.”
I wanted to stay angry.
I had every reason to.
But he looked so ashamed that my anger began turning into something more complicated.
“How long have you been in this chapel?”
“Twenty minutes.”
“Why?”
“I was trying to figure out how to explain everything without making you feel as though the past year had been a lie.”
“Was it?”
His eyes moved to mine.
“No.”
“Then what was it?”
He looked down at his right hand.
“Me trying to pretend I could keep being the person I was before.”
I said nothing.
He continued.
“Last June, my hand went numb during a procedure. I thought it was nothing. I finished the surgery. Then I went to the locker room and couldn’t button my shirt.”
I remembered him coming home late that night.
I had been angry. He had stood in the doorway while I complained about dinner getting cold.
He had listened.
Then he had taken a shower.
I had never noticed that his left hand was doing all the work.
“I went to neurology the next morning,” he said. “They ordered tests. The results were unclear. They told me to monitor it.”
“And you monitored it.”
“I ignored it.”
“Why?”
“Because if I admitted something was wrong, everything changed.”
“Everything already changed.”
“I know.”
His voice cracked.
He turned his face away.
“I thought if I kept working, it would prove I was fine.”
“And did it?”
“No.”
The word was barely audible.
“By August, I was dropping instruments. Nothing dangerous. Nothing that anyone saw. But I knew. I started asking residents to take over small tasks. I stopped doing certain procedures.”
“Were you allowed to work?”
“Only with restrictions. Eventually, Dr. Patel told me I had to stop operating until the surgery.”
“And you agreed?”
“I argued.”
“Of course you did.”
A faint smile crossed his face.
It disappeared quickly.
“I thought if I stopped, people would look at me differently.”
“Who?”
“Everyone.”
“Me?”
He didn’t answer.
That was answer enough.