We sit quietly together, Kostos quickly becomes absorbed in a soccer game playing on a TV in the corner, despite the fact that it seems to have been played in the late ‘90s. I simply stare off into space. I have no desire to check my work emails, even though I certainly should. Sequel doesn’t feel important anymore. The only person that fucking matters is down a hallway I can’t enter.
I fucked up when I let Maura into my life. I should have known my colorful, chaotic wife wouldn’t be constrained by black-and-white contracts and clauses. She wormed her way into my heart before I knew she was doing it. It’s too late to regret it now, now that I’m finally ready to admit that I’m in love with her.
My circle is small for a reason—I know how fucking easy it is for someone you love to be ripped away from you. Even my friends wouldn’t occupy so much of my heart, if they hadn’t been grandfathered in from before my parents died. When I tried to pull away, they didn’t let me. They clawed their way back in with the annoying determination of bedbugs. They were enough, anyway. I didn’t plan on letting in anyone else.
I didn’t plan on Maura. If I lose her, I have no idea what surviving it would even look like.
After what feels like hours, the doctor finally emerges. He gestures for me to follow him, and Kostos pats me on the shoulder.
“I'll be waiting,” he assures me.
The doctor leads me down a short hallway into a small, clean office. Framed medical certificates hang on the wall behind his desk.
“I’m Dr. Dimakos,” the doctor says, taking a seat and gesturing for me to do the same. “I'm sorry I didn't get a chance to introduce myself earlier.”
“James Keller,” I say in response. “How’s Maura?”
“Still unconscious, but she’s stable now. Before we discuss her current condition, there are some things you should know.”
My stomach sinks. Part of me knew that Maura didn't just collapse from overexertion. There was always something wrong, something hinted at but never said. Now, at the worst possible time, I'll finally learn the truth.
“We’ve managed to contact Maura’s doctor in Toronto, who sent over her records,” Dr. Dimakos says. “My nurse tells me you’re not aware of her full medical history. Since you will be making her medical decisions until she’s conscious, though, it’s important that you know the facts.”
I nod, the responsibility heavy on my shoulders. Fuck, I hope I can guess what decision Maura would want me to make.
The doctor clears his throat. “Maura had a prior open-heart surgery when she was fourteen, as part of treatment for a chronic heart condition. She’s suffered recurrent episodes in the years since and uses medication to control her blood pressure and prevent blood clots. She remains at high risk for another incident.”
The words pummel at me, but they can’t seem to sink in. What’s he talking about? How can Maura be sick now? I can’tsquare the vital, bright, chaotic woman who invaded my life could be held down by anything.
“This is all news to you?” he asks sympathetically.
My wife has a heart condition. She's been hiding it from me. She could…she might…
My brain refuses to finish that sentence. Instead, it offers me helpful alternatives like:You could have prevented this if you'd knownandWhy didn't you ask more questions?and, most unhelpfully,You're an idiot, James.
“I…most of it.” I swallow. “We had a short engagement. She—well, she didn’t tell me everything.”
He nods. “Maura had a serious cardiac episode today, driven by overexertion. We were able to stabilize her, but excursions like that hike are dangerous. Her condition requires careful management.”
The world seems to lurch around me. Relief that she’s still alive swells over me, followed by a shattering wave of terror at what might have happened if we didn’t get to the clinic in time. It seems like there's a very real possibility that Maura might have died in my arms.
Fuck, I should've known. I should never have even pushed for this marriage contract in the first place. I had no idea that knowing so little about my wife could put her in danger like this
“There’s more,” Dr. Dimakos says. “Maura’s bloodwork shows that she’s newly pregnant.”
My own heart stops beating for a moment. Even though this is what we hoped for, I'm too overwhelmed with guilt and fear to even be happy. Maura’s health matters far more to me than this child who’s barely begun to exist.
No. That’s not what Maura would think, and I’m supposed to make the best decisions for her. She would love this child with her whole heart, the minute she knows it’s there. I have tolook out for it, with the same ferocity I’d bring to taking care of Maura.
“Can I see her medication names?” I ask dumbly. I should write them down. I should at least knowsomething.
The doctor nods and swivels his monitor, pointing to the screen. Before I can read the long list, my eye catches on a phrase that pierces through me like a bullet.
Reduced life expectancy.
How reduced, I want to demand. How much can this condition steal away from me? Five years? A decade? God forbid, more than that? I’ve barely had a chance to know Maura, and already I'm in danger of losing her.
Dr. Dimakos tilts his head, and I know he’s waiting for me to write down the medication names. I quickly pull out my phone, ignoring the dozens of missed notifications to type the names into my notes.
