I brush off the sensation and try to refocus my attention on my notes. “I’m not sure what we have, but if you can find something, by all means.”
“You haven’t gone to the grocery—I mean, neither of us has gone to the grocery store recently.” I’m not sure how he’s just realizing this fact, but he’s correct.
“There’s no time. We’re on a deadline, are we not?”
“We still must eat…” He opens the oven door to glance inside as if something might just appear out of thin air.
“Of course, I understand, but I need to finish my notes right now.”
“What notes, Emilie?” he asks, closing the oven door.
“The counter action of resistance to balance the viscosity of blood flow when a body’s temperature drops to 30°C/86°F,” I spout.
“I’m not sure I’m following you,” he says. “I didn’t realize you had broken down the data so far within your analysis.”
I take in a deep breath to tame my frustration with his purposeful disruption. “What do you think I’ve been doing?” I ask, flipping through the pages of my notepad, the pages fanning the fallen strands of hair framing my face.
“I thought you were furious about what we were doing, not invested to the point of analyzing the numbers. In fact, I was wondering why you’ve hardly said a word to me about the number of deaths we’ve seen recently.” Anger doesn’t describe all the emotions I’ve experienced. The constant tightening of my chest and lack of appetite says it all, but I’m not sure he’s aware of what I’m feeling inside. His words are eating away at my soul because whatever he thinks of me is inaccurate. The deaths only mean I’m not working fast enough to solve the issues at hand, or slow down the process of the trials.
I huff out the breath I’ve been holding in my lungs. “Otto, I’m focusing on what needs to be done.”
He moves behind my chair and places his hands on my shoulders, rubbing at the tight muscles I can’t seem to relax. “I think it’s wonderful that we’re doing something so groundbreaking to solve such a large crisis. We’ll be known for the work we’re carrying out. It’s inconceivable.”
I wish I had the capability to dream of a truth such as what he’s talking about. To be recognized for any form of medical research at such an early age would be unheard of, an accomplishment so far out of reach for someone like me. However, the only reason this research could be seen as an accomplishment would be because it hadn’t been trialed on humans before, and for obvious reasons. I’m not in this for the recognition. I’m in this to save as many people as I can, despite the freight train soaring toward us, aiming to take down anything in its path.
“I’m not sure I’d refer to this as groundbreaking—it’s death defying—that’s about it, Otto,” I reply.
Otto steps to the side and drops his hands into his pockets. “So, if this means nothing, why are you putting all your time and effort into it? Surely there’s a reason you’re so invested in all of this.”
I drop my pen and swivel around to face my husband. “Otto, what was it about me that made you say:I want to marry her?”
Otto might have thought I wouldn’t make it through nursing school if I were given the chance to fall happily into the role of a housewife. I must not have been clear on the importance of having a career of my own.
His face contorts with anguish, reacting as if I’ve accused him of something. “Well, that’s a fairly simple answer. I couldn’t picture myself spending my life with anyone else, Emilie,” he says, the clear pain idling in his eyes. “Is there a different response you’re looking for?”
“No, I’m not.”
He pulls his hands from his pockets and folds his arms over his chest. “And you, why did you agree to be my wife? Wasn’t there something better out there for you? Did you just settle for me?”
His question hits me like a blast of frigid air, forcing me to consider the answer to his question. If I tell him it’s because it felt like the right thing to do, it would sound demoralizing to my character. If I say it seemed like the comfortable choice, I might hate myself for admitting so out loud. It wasn’t a question of settling for Otto. I hadn’t looked elsewhere for someone, and our paths came together in such a way that I could only assume it was meant to be.
“You’re taking an awfully long time to answer my question,” he mutters.
I clasp my fingers together, squeezing the discomfort into my tight grip. “I don’t know how to answer you.”
Otto lifts his head, his cheeks flaming red, and squats down to be eye-level with me. “I can tell you why, Emi. It’s because we know the answer,” he says. “There was someone better out there for you, but you couldn’t have him. Isn’t that right?”
I try to swallow against my parched throat. My stomach hardens like stone and my heart pounds heavily against my ribs. He might as well be accusing me of being unfaithful to him with the way he’s speaking. “Who are you referring to?”
Otto snickers and nods dismissively. “You think I don’t see the way you look at Danner every day you pass by him? I’ve always known how much you loved him when we were kids, and even until a few years ago when we were all split apart. I knew he wasn’t an option for you then. You knew that and so did he. I didn’t steal you from him, but I did see my chance to finally have the girl I always had eyes for. That’s my truth, Emilie.”
There isn’t much else to say seeing that he clearly knows me so well.
“I need to be alone right now.” I lift my books and notepad from the table, watching my reflection as I pass by the red polka-dot teapot on the way out. I scurry out of the room and stop when I make it to the second step, listening to the floorboard moan from my wavering feet.I turn back and retrace my steps into the kitchen where Otto is now standing, staring toward the hallway as if he can’t believe I left.
“I was wrong not to respond to your question,” I say. “While I don’t understand what you gain from accusing me of looking at Danner in some way, I’ll say this: When I see him, my heart shatters into a million pieces—the same way it did when he was forced to leave Munich four years ago. My feelings for Danner weren’t a secret. You knew I locked myself inside my house for weeks after he left for Poland. I’d never felt as much pain as I did then. Not until now…upon seeing him wither away, knowing I can’t do anything about it.”
My throat tightens around my words as tears burn the backs of my eyes. I try to be strong, to keep myself together, but I’m only human.
