CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Emma
My hands are shakingas I close the book, and Jackson’s head lifts from my shoulder. “That’s intense,” hesays.
“All this time, I thought she had been liberated. I didn’t think she escaped,” I tell him, confused by the muddled facts I’ve picked up on throughout mylife.
“I guess we won’t know until you finish reading,” he says, sounding as tired as Ifeel.
“I don’t think I can read any more tonight. I feel like it’s all I can focus on, and it’s taking me to a place I’m not sure I’m ready to go yet.” A long sigh exhales from my lungs as I hug my arm around my knee. “I don’t know if that makes anysense…”
“It’s hard information to digest. It would be for anyone,” he tells me. “You probably need to do something after reading to shut it off for a bit. It’s not healthy to hold yourself hostage in a situation you can’t control.” He squeezes his arm around my shoulders…to comfort me…Ithink.
“Is that the doctor in you speakingor—”
“Experience,” he says. “Maybeboth.”
I shift my body, bringing my other knee up onto the couch to face him. “How so?” We’ve learned a lot about Grams in the last few days, but I don’t know a whole lot about Jackson, and I’m curious to find out more about him, aside from the fact that he’s a doctor and adivorcee.
“I lose patients possibly more than other areas of the hospital. I see so much pain-stricken grief in patients and their families that sometimes it’s hard to come home at the end of the day and redirect my attention to something happier, you know?” He places his empty wine glass down on the table in front of us before continuing. “For a long time, I felt guilty about compartmentalizing it and putting my feelings about patients aside when I’m off duty, but I’ve learned over the past few years that if I don’t force myself to shut it down, I’ll become consumed andmiserable.”
He’s looking at me with such intensity that I can almost feel his words, and they make me ache for the loneliness he battles in his head. “I’ve wondered how doctors do it, but I’ve always looked at them more like super humans than anything else. I figured they could manage it, so that’s why they were meant to be doctors. I know I’d never be able to handle serious illnesses, deaths, or any of the other associated emotional pain on a daily basis. I honestly can’t imagine going through that all the time. I don’t think I’d be strong enough to turn it off on self-command.”
Jackson rests back into the cushion behind us and glances up toward the ceiling where his lights are creating an aura of colorful diamonds. “We don’t have that option. I wouldn’t make it as a doctor if I didn’t figure out how to separate my personal life from work. That’s one of the first things you have to commit to if you want to have any kind of life outside of thehospital.”
“That makes sense.” With his gaze still stuck on the ceiling, I look around the room for a moment, noticing the lack of pictures on the walls and coffee table. I know men aren’t typically the type to show off photos the way women do, but he doesn’t have artwork up either. “You said you have an older sister,right?”
“Two older sisters, actually,” he says. I know he had told me one, so I’m slightly confused by the change. “They were twins, but one died in a car accident ten years ago. Drunkdriver.”
“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry,” I tell him. I’m taken aback by this, and it opens up a new set of questions about Jackson. It’s like I’m slowly peeling away his layers, trying to find out what’s inside ofhim.
“Life happens,right?”
“That type of life shouldn’t have to happen because of someone else’s recklessness,” I tell him. “What was shelike?”
“Carly was a force to be reckoned with,” he says through quiet laughter. “Strongest person I’ve ever known. She stayed alive for about a week after the accident, but her vitals kept failing, and the doctors were having trouble finding the source. They said they did every test there was, but nothing showed up as a cause. Evidently, her sternum had broken so badly that a piece had shattered off and punctured her aorta. The tear was very small and could have been repaired if found in time, but itwasn’t.”
I tend to picture stories when I hear them, and this one nauseates me to think about what he went through at such a young age. “Is that why you’re a cardiologist?” I ask, almostknowing.
“I was already in med school at the time, but I was originally planning on specializing in internal medicine. I changed my plan after Carlydied.”
He maintains a straight face through his entire explanation, and I’m not sure I could be as strong. “How are your mom and othersister?”
“Eh,” he says. “They had a tough time getting through the first couple of years after Carly passed. Now they have their moments, but mostly they spend their time harassing me to get remarried and have a family forthem.” We both laugh simultaneously because I’m sure he’s heard my grandmother’s demands of me, not to mention her ridiculous bribe. To find out that his family is similar seems ironic and makes me feel less uncomfortable about mysituation.
“Our families would get along well,” I tellhim.
“It would be a little scary, actually,” he says, leaning forward and pouring a bit more wine into each of our glasses. His comment makes me wonder what he sees in his future, not that I’m exactly sure what I see in mine, but I know it isn’t living with Momforever.
“We’re supposed to be changing the mood here,” he says, handing me myglass.
“Well, what do you do to cheer yourself up after a badday?”
He leans back into the couch and takes a mouthful of Pinot. “Hmm, that’s a tough one,” hesays.
“Well, you said you watch TV a lot,” I say, encouraging hisanswers.
“I play a lot of Candy Crush too, but don’tjudge.”
