“When was the last time you took it?” he shot back.
“I-I don’t remember. It was before we started the therapies. Why all this questioning, Kai? You are acting as if I have committed a crime.”
His eyes slammed shut in shame, and he pinched the bridge of his nose. Esther was in pain and already worried about her daughter and the trip to America. Meanwhile, he was acting like an arse and raising her anxiety. But her answer provided ameasure of relief. If she had gone for almost a month without taking it, she may not be addicted. Still, some dependency still existed. If possible, he would like to wean her completely of the evil stuff.
“I didn’t mean to upset you,Xiao Lù.Please forgive me. It’s no excuse, but you know how I feel about opium. To think that you, someone so dear to me, might have fallen victim to it… I was worried.” What a lame word. He had been terrified.
Her eyes softened, and she raised her arms to invite him to go to her. Which he did. After setting the vial of the odious stuff on the dresser, he went to her and kneeled at her feet, embracing her about the waist. He rested his head on her lap, and her fingers combed gently through his hair, each stroke soothing as though it had the power to brush away his anguish. Why was she comforting him instead of the other way around? He had revealed too much. She had seen the darkness and despair inside him.
“Your feelings about opium, they are more personal than you led me to believe.”
“Yes.” It was useless to deny it now.
“Did you lose a loved one to opium?”
God, how had she known? Like an expert surgeon, she had taken the scalpel and lanced the wound. A wound that had been festering for over twenty years.
He nodded without lifting his head from her lap. “My wife.”
He heard her sharp intake of breath. But her wonderful fingers never stopped their caress.
“Tell me.”
Her soft, compassionate voice must have put a spell on him, for the painful story he had kept locked inside spilled forth with the strength of a volcanic eruption.
“My wife had suffered a miscarriage, and it was so hard on her. I never wanted her to go through that again. I vowed toprevent her from conceiving, and for two years, I was successful. But then she started cajoling and pleading with me to give her another chance. I refused at first, but she insisted. Said the only way for her to get over her loss would be to have a baby. And I gave in. Disregarded every instinct that told me she shouldn’t get pregnant again.
“When she lost her second pregnancy, it was even worse than the first time. She was in so much pain. She cried and begged me to do something. I couldn’t stand to see her suffering. Couldn’t stand her pain. So I gave her some opium. Against my better judgment. I knew the addictive power of the substance. Saw it every day in some of the patients I treated. But full of hubris, I thought I could control her doses. Give her pain relief while preventing her from getting addicted.”
“But that’s not what happened, was it?” Esther asked.
“No. The opium eased her pain—both her physical pain and the pain of loss. But she started craving more after the first dose. As soon as the effect wore off, she demanded more. If I refused, she would go into fits. Crying, cajoling, threatening. When she physically recovered and I tried to wean her, she started going out to obtain it by herself, sometimes through shady means. No matter what I did, how much I tried to help her, she kept using opium in ever-increasing quantities. I decided to take her away from the city. My father had a house in the countryside. There, far from the opium, and with my help, she might have recovered. But I was too slow to act.”
He raised his head, looking at her eyes for a moment.
“I couldn’t just leave and abandon all my patients. I had to transfer them to another doctor. I took a few days to settle my practice. But one day…”
His voice broke, and he took a deep breath, looking away. Unsure if he could tell this part of the story. Esther waitedpatiently for him to continue. Her hands on him lent him the strength he needed.
“One day, I arrived home and found her dead. I couldn’t revive her. If I had been there… if I had taken her away sooner…” Every muscle in his body tensed, as if to protect him from the memory of his wife lying lifeless in front of him. He re-lived every awful second of the devastating moment.
“I’m so sorry, Kai. I can only imagine how difficult the entire situation must have been for both of you. How painful. I think the emotional pain might have been greater than the physical. But you mustn’t blame yourself.”
He lifted his head from her lap to stare at her.
“Who else am I going to blame? I was the one who got her pregnant. I was the one who gave her the opium. Everything was my fault.”
“She had some say in those decisions. She was an adult.”
He shook his head. “As a doctor, I should have known better. And as a husband, I should have done better. She was mine to protect and care for. And I failed miserably.”
“Oh, Kai. I wish you could see it the way I see it. Wish I could take away your pain. But you won’t believe any words of absolution, will you?”
“I don’t deserve absolution, Esther. Some mistakes are so enormous one must carry them to the grave.”
Compassion shone in her eyes. Looking at him with such sympathy that a knot formed in his throat.
“Is that the reason you left China?”
