“I just… I don’t get it,” I huffed. “Like even now, eighteen months later, I still can’t understand it.”
Frasier’s touch was comforting. “I don’t understand it either. We will probably never understand it. But at some point, I knew I had to make my peace with it, as hard as it’s been.”
“I’ve tried.” The words felt as if they’d been ripped from my throat. “God, I’ve tried. But it just doesn’t make sense. I’ve asked the staff, teammates, everyone. Derek didn’t show any warning signs. No abnormal vitals. No chest pains. No fainting.”
“True,” Frasier said, but I sensed hesitation.
“What?” I asked.
“I don’t know.” He rubbed the back of his neck, and I could tell there was something he didn’t want to say.
I was terrified to find out what that was, but I also had to know the answer. “Please just tell me.”
“Just because none of us witnessed those symptoms doesn’t mean he never had them.”
I sucked in a jagged breath. “You think he was hiding them?”
“No.” Frasier let out a deep sigh, and he looked so…tired. Weighed down by a deep exhaustion, a heaviness. Then he said, “I don’t know. But if Derek didn’t tell anyone, there was no way we could know.”
I gnashed my teeth. “The autopsy also showed no structural abnormalities.None.”
“I know,” Frasier said. He’d been with me when I’d read the report. He’d gone with me to identify the body.
“He didn’t have an inherited disorder that could be linked to SADS.” I tugged at my hair. “I get that it’s especially common in athletes and young people, but he was in the best shape of his life. He was at the top of his career.” My chest was heaving. “We’d just bought a house. We were going to start a family.”
Frasier stilled, and I… I froze.Oh shit.I hadn’t intended to mention that.
“Bryn…” Frasier’s tone was soft yet guarded, as if he were tiptoeing across a frozen lake. Stepping carefully to avoid falling through the ice. “You were…” He swallowed hard. “Were you pregnant?”
I shook my head, wiping away another tear. “No, but we were trying.”
“I—” He closed his eyes briefly, and I was grateful to have a moment to gather myself. “Come here.” He shifted so I could get closer. “Come on, angel.”
I moved so I was nestled in his arms, allowing him to hold me. He was warm and comforting, his heart beating steadily in his chest.
“Jesus, Bryn. I had no idea.” His voice was gruff. “Thank you for telling me.”
I curled up against him, feeling safe in his arms. Depleted and exhausted, but also…lighter somehow.
“I get that you want there to be an explanation. So do I,” Frasier said, smoothing a hand over my hair. “But you can’t let this consume you.”
“I don’t want to let it consume me,” I admitted. “I’ve made so much progress, but lately, I feel stuck.”
“Why do you think that is?” he asked.
I lifted a shoulder. “I guess I feel like maybe if I can just make sense of it in my mind, I’ll be able to move past it.”
“That’s understandable. But you, of all people, know that a lot of times, medical things don’t make sense.”
“I know.” My shoulders slumped. Because I did know that, thanks to my job.
“A child with a brain tumor never makes sense. And sometimes, the prognosis is bleak, and yet, you do everything you can to give them the best possible chance at life, despite the odds.” He rubbed his thumb back and forth over my knee. “You make miracles happen every day.”
“I’m not sure I’d go that far,” I said.
“Don’t downplay what you do or the hope you give to your patients and their families,” he said. “We both know how important the mind is to the body’s recovery.”
I nodded. He was right. And I wasn’t trying to downplay what I did, but I was part of a team. We all had a role to play, especially the patients and their families. And sometimes, no matter what we tried, something didn’t work. It was heartbreaking and frustrating.
