It’s creeping toward late afternoon when I see Dr. Shaw walking through the double doors. My heart leaps up into my ears. I hear the pounding, like gongs.
I stand up, but I do not run across the room to him. It’s strange the social normalcies we hold strong to, even in the midst of extraordinary circumstances. The rules we are unwilling to break.
Dr. Shaw looks tired, far older than his age, which I’d put around forty.
“Everything went well,” he says. I feel relief course through my body right along with my blood. “She’s out and recovering. We were able to get all the tumor and any cancer cells to the best of our ability.”
“Thank god,” Jill says.
“She has a long road ahead of her, but today went well.”
“Can we see her?” I ask.
“She’s been through a lot. One visitor for now. Someone from my team will come over to take you back and answer any further questions.”
“Thank you,” I say. I shake his hand. So do Frederick and Jill. Aaron is still sitting. When I look back at him, I see that he is crying. He holds the back of his hand against his face, swallowing his sobs.
“Hey,” I say. “You should go.”
Jill looks at me but doesn’t say anything. I know Bella’s parents. I know being with her in the recovery room, unchaperoned, scares them. They don’t want to make decisions about her care, not really. And so I will. I always have.
“No,” he says. He shuffles his hands in front of his face, diverting attention. “You should go.”
“She’ll want to see you,” I tell him.
I imagine Bella waking up in a bed. In pain, confused. Whose face does she want hovering above hers? Whose hand does she want to hold? Somehow, I know that it’s his.
A nurse comes back. She wears bright pink scrubs and has a stuffed koala clinging to the pocket of her shirt. “Are you the family of Bella Gold?”
I nod. “This is her husband,” I lie. I’m not sure what the rule is for boyfriends. “He’d like to go back.”
“I’ll take you,” she says.
I watch them disappear down the hallway. It’s not until they’re gone, and Jill and Frederick are cornering me, asking questions, demanding we get the nurse back, that I feel happy for Bella for the first time. This is the thing she’s wanted forever. This, right here. This is love.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Bella is supposed to spend seven days in the hospital, but because of her age and general health she’s released after five, and on Saturday morning I meet her at her apartment. Jill has gone back to Philadelphia for the weekend to “take care of some business,” but hired a private nurse who runs the place like military quarters. The apartment is spotless when I arrive, more orderly than I’ve ever seen it.
“She won’t even let me stand up,” Bella says.
Every day she has looked better. It’s impossible to understand how she could still be sick, how there could still be cancer cells in her. Her cheeks are now rosy, her body has regained its color. She’s sitting up in bed when I get there, enjoying scrambled eggs and avocado, a side of toast, and a cup of coffee on a tray.
“It’s like room service,” I say. “You always wanted to live at a hotel.”
I set the sunflowers—her favorite—I brought on the nightstand.
“Where is Aaron?”
“I sent him home,” she says. “The poor guy hasn’t slept in a week. He looks way worse than I do.”
Aaron has kept vigil at her bedside. I went to work, slogged through the days, and came in the morning and night, but he refused to leave. Watching over the nurses, her monitors—making sure no misstep was made.
“Your dad?”
“He’s back in Paris,” she says. “Everyone needs to understand that I’m fine. Obviously. Look at me.”
She holds her hands above her head in proof.
