A knock comes from the door. “Mr. Ross.”
I look up to see Dr. Jones, who I like and despise at the same time. He’s taken good care of Blair, but his bedside manner is lacking.
“Dr. Jones,” I grind out.
“Can we talk?”
About the same thing that we discussed before? The last time we chatted, when Blair’s parents were in attendance, out of respect for them, I didn’t give this man a piece of my mind. But now we’re alone. Now he’s fresh meat.
I nod and release Blair’s hand. She’s hooked up to so many wires that I just want to rip them out. I give her one last look before stepping into the hallway.
I lean against the wall to keep myself upright. I’ve given so much magic that standing for long periods of time is grueling if not impossible. But I wouldn’t take a moment of it back.
“Mr. Ross, I know this isn’t easy, and I know that you aren’t married to Blair, but that was your plan.”
It does not escape my attention that he uses the past tense when talking about her future.
I fold my arms. “We wanted to be married as soon as possible.”
He nods, his expression full of concern. False concern, if you ask me. “You and I have talked about this before, but there are things you need to seriously think about.”
I exhale with a hiss.
“This is hard,” he explains, sympathy in his eyes, “but I’ve seen cases like hers before. The chances that Blair will wake up are slim, so slim that the percentage is below one percent. You need to consider letting her go. You can spend a lifetime feeding her through a tube, but is that the life she would want?”
“You don’t know what she would want,” I growl.
He lifts his hands in surrender. “You’re right. I don’t. But is this whatyouwant for her? A life hooked up? Because since she’s not up and moving around, she’s at risk of developing bedsores. Her muscles will atrophy because she’s not using them. I know you have magic, and maybe some of the side effects can be diminished, but they’re still a possibility. Mr. Ross, herfuture is up to you, but I know what kind of life I would want for my loved one.”
The nerve of this man. “One where they starve to death? You would have me commit murder,” I say, glaring at him. “But I get it, it’s not murder if your scans show that she’s brain-dead, is it?”
His nostrils flare. “This is a decision for you and her parents.”
“Doc, with all due respect, she’s in there. You don’t see it, but I know it. Blair is alive and she’s trapped. She just needs to be unlocked. I don’t know how. But that’s the truth.”
He shoots me a look like he feels sorry for my delusion. “Get back to me. I’m working this weekend.”
He pats my shoulder as if that’s supposed to ease the harshness of his words.
After he walks away, I scoff. What kind of medical ethics is this? Telling me to let Blair starve to death? I punch a fist into my hand. I’d like to punch a wall, but I don’t have the strength.
I walk back into the room and sit down, my legs weak.
I refuse to consider a future without her in it. “Doctor just wanted to tell me how good you’re doing. He said you’re gonna be just fine.” I take her hand and kiss the back of it. “Just fine, indeed.”
As soon asI get home, Hands lays into me.You need to shave. And take a shower. You smell terrible.
I shake my head. “I don’t care.”
If Blair wakes up tomorrow, she won’t recognize you.
“Yes, she will.”
He points to a hall mirror, and I take a look. My hair’s shaggy, a patchy beard is clinging to my cheeks and my eyes are sunken in.
Okay, so Hands has a point. “Fine. I’ll clean up.”
After I get out of the shower and swipe a hand over the fogged-up mirror, the only thing that I can think is that a dead man is staring back at me—one who looks like all it will take is a strong wind to snap him in half.
