I thought about that as I knocked softly on the door and went into Angela’s room. The lights were low because they hurt her eyes, but the television was on, giving a soft blue glow to both Angela in the bed and Emma, who sat next to her as they watched the football game.
“Who’s winning?” I inquired, squinting at the screen. “And how’s Noah playing?”
“He’s beating the shit out of everyone,” Emma answered. “Angela and I are pretty sure he’s taking out his aggression about leukemia and its complications on the poor clueless guys from Texas.”
A faint smile played around Angela’s lips. “Our team is winning. Twenty-one to six. Third quarter, four minutes to go.”
“Not bad. I’d like a little more margin, maybe.” I waited until Texas called a time out and the broadcast went to a commercial break. “Angela, taking into account the rash that showed up this morning, and considering what’s been revealed in the process of your differential diagnosis, we’re going to proceed on the assumption that this is acute graft versus host disease. I’ve asked Jenny to get you started on two different medicines that should start to turn things around.”
Exhaustion had drained the color from Angela’s face, but I thought I detected a tiny spark of what could have been hope. “Will the medicine make me feel better?”
“Eventually, yes. But now that we’re definitively treating you for GVHD, we can add a few meds to alleviate the symptoms, too. I ordered Compazine for your nausea and Lomotil for the diarrhea. We’re continuing with intravenous hydration, and that should help, too.” I smiled encouragingly. “Hang in there for a few more days, Angela. Pretty soon, all of this will just be an unpleasant memory.”
“If you say so.” She tried to roll her eyes at me in her typical teasing fashion, but she ended up closing her eyes instead, sighing. “I’m just so tired. It feels like I’m nevernotgoing to be tired again.”
Over her bed, Emma’s anxious gaze met mine. She reached over to run her hand lightly over Angela’s arm. “Sleep is good for your body right now. That’s why you’re tired, and it’s also why you shouldn’t fight it. Go ahead and nap now—I promise, I’ll watch the game, and once you wake up, I’ll give you the play-by-play, so that when Noah gets here tonight, you’ll be able to pretend you didn’t miss a minute.”
Angela began to nod, but she fell asleep mid-movement, her mouth parting slightly as she dozed off. Worry and uncertainty twisted my stomach. I didn’t usually put much stock into hunches, but I had an eerily bad feeling about whatever was going on this time. I wondered if it was because of my mother. Maybe my shrink would’ve said I was projecting my recalled experience with my mom onto Angela, because she too was young and should have had an easy recovery.
Whatever the reason, I couldn’t make myself stay in the room any longer. I turned around and stalked out, eating up the distance between Angela and my office, where I shut the door and sat down my desk, burying my face in my hands. I stayed there for the next few hours, alternately looking up new research on groundbreaking treatments for Angela’s ailment and leaning back in the chair to search my brain for something I might have missed.
It was dark when Emma knocked at my door and slipped inside. She frowned at me, tilting her head.
“Why are you sitting here in the dark?”
I shrugged. “I didn’t need the light on for what I was doing. I think better in the dark.” Heaving a long sigh, I shook my head. “Or maybe I don’t, because I didn’t come up with a single decent fucking idea.”
Emma made her way over to my desk and sat down in the chair across from me. “The meds are on board, so maybe we’ll see some improvement soon. Noah just got here. I updated him on what we’ve decided, and then I left to give them some space.”
“Thanks.” I nodded. “God, I know we’re doing everything we can, but it doesn’t feel like enough. It feels like there should be . . . more.”
She smiled faintly. “My dad says that it’s times like this that we become better doctors, because we realize our limitations and recognize that we are mortals, not gods. He tells me that if I never hit a point where I don’t know what to do, I’m not stretching myself.”
“That’s probably excellent advice, but right now, to be honest, it just pisses me off more. I don’t want there to be a limit on treating my patients. I never claimed to be a god. I just want to be good enough at my job that people don’t fucking die.”
“That sure sounds like a god complex to me.” Emma’s tone was mild, but the words stung.
“Oh, really? Wanting to help people to heal and to live is a god complex, huh? Then what do you think about yourself, Emma? You’re always floating around here, making people think that you have some kind of mystical nature answer up your sleeve for every damn symptom they might have, from the common cold to terminal fucking cancer.” I ground out the words between clenched teeth. “Science isn’t good enough for you—you need to dig the remedies out of the dirt or pull them off a magical tree somewhere. Well, what are you going to do to make Angela all better again, Emma? What’s the naturopathic way tell us about how to cure her?”
She stood up, her movements stiff. Even in the shadows, I could see the flash of her eyes. “Deacon, I understand that you’re upset. I get that you’re frustrated. But you don’t have to take it out on me. I’m on your side, remember? We play for the same team.” She pushed the chair aside and moved around to stand behind it. “And where do you get off making fun of what I do? Do I mock your precious science? Do I roll my eyes and make you think you’re an idiot when it doesn’t work? No, I don’t, and I expect just a modicum of the same respect from you.”
I rose as well, slamming my chair backwards on its wheels until it banged into the wall behind me. “I’m going home. There’s nothing more I can do here tonight, and there’s no point in continuing this conversation with you.” Opening the top drawer, I dug around for my keys.
“You’re going home by yourself?” There was more than a faint hint of accusation in Emma’s voice.
“Yes. That’s exactly what I’m doing. I’m going back tomyhouse, by myself. I need peace and quiet, and I’m not going to get it here.”
She folded her arms over her chest. “Fine.” The single word made it clear that it was anything but. Still, I didn’t pause. I walked out of the office, leaving her in the dark, and headed down the quiet hallway toward the hospital exit.
I made it almost all the way to my car when remorse and reason got the better of me. I was being a fool. I was acting like a spoiled child, doing exactly what Emma had said—taking out my anger at cancer on her. Turning around, I went back inside, intent on finding her and apologizing.
The light was on in my office, so I assumed that she was still in there—possibly waiting for me to realize the error of my ways and come back. But when I pushed open the door, Emma wasn’t alone.
She was standing in the middle of the room, and her arms were wrapped around Noah Spencer.
Fury and betrayal rocketed through me, and I didn’t stop to consider what I did next.
“What the fucking hell is going on?”
