Wyatt takes me to the appointment and goes to the cafeteria to get us coffee while I’m in the waiting room. I am skimming an old magazine when my brother comes through the door, still wearing his scrubs from surgery.
He catches me up in a tight embrace. “Goddammit, Dawn,” he murmurs. “You don’t get to leave me like everyone else did.”
“Doing my best not to,” I say. I close my eyes, clutching him. I have been with my brother in Boston for fifteen years. I have been so busy thinking about Meret in this messy equation I have completely forgotten that if I go to Egypt with Wyatt, I’ll be leaving Kieran, too.
He draws me back at arm’s length and examines my scar critically. “Nice work,” he concedes. “Who’s the surgeon from North Carolina? When do the staples need to be removed?”
Suddenly, Wyatt is at my side, holding two coffee cups. He smiles widely, trying to figure out how to extend a hand for a shake while still holding the lattes.
“You must be Kieran. I’m Wyatt Armstrong. I’ve heard so much about you.” He passes me my coffee. “Here, Olive.”
“He doesn’t know your name?” Kieran murmurs. “Did he have a head injury, too?”
“He knows my name. It’s a long story.”
Stunned, Kieran shakes Wyatt’s hand. “I didn’t realize he came back with you…”
“He came to meet Meret. He’s her biological father.”
Kieran’s eyes widen. “Did not see that one coming.”
“That makes two of us,” I murmur.
The nurse behind the desk looks up. “Ms. McDowell?”
“Back to the maiden name?” Kieran muses.
While I change into a hospital gown and robe, Kieran waits outside the little dressing room. “So let me get this straight,” he says. “You brought your boyfriend home to your husband?”
“Shut up, Kieran.” I step out of the dressing room and let him lead me to the imaging suite. “I had a plan. And then I wound up having brain surgery.”
“If I had a dime for every time I heard that excuse…” He talks to the radiology assistants, who help me climb onto the table and lie down. I am covered with a sheet. Kieran steps into the glass booth, his arms crossed, watching me as I slide into the metal tube.
“Okay, Dawn. This won’t take long.” I hear his voice over a speaker. It’s even and calming, but I know him well enough to hear the thread of anxiety. He is just as afraid of what he might see as I am. “Hold still. Don’t move.”
As if I am not already paralyzed.
I close my eyes and hope that whatever Kieran is seeing on that computer screen is normal, and clear, and perfect.Please let it be all right,I pray.
I’ve only just found him again.
After a few minutes, I am wheeled back out. Kieran pushes a button and speaks to me through the glass. “I never thought I’d say this, but your brain is perfect.”
I let out a long breath of relief. Now if I only could figure out my heart.
“On the other hand,” Kieran continues, “your hair looks like a freak show.”
I sit up, clutching the sheet to my chest. “Dr. McDowell,” I say. “Fuck you.”
—
THE NEXT DAY,when Brian is at work, Wyatt comes over. He uses my laptop to write a draft of an article while I read a novel; we take a slow walk around the reservoir. We pick up Meret at camp. In the late afternoon, Wyatt and Meret play Monopoly until he insists he’s going to die of boredom and begs me for a deck of cards so he can teach her Spite and Malice. “Okay, the goal of the game is to clear your personal deck,” Wyatt says. “You’ve got five cards in your hand. You have to play your aces and twos. Jokers are wild, but can’t be an ace, two, seven, or king…” He laughs. “Get ready to throw shit.”
Meret’s eyes light up when he swears. “Dammit. I’m probably not supposed to curse,” he says, and he smiles twice as wide.
We are careful not to touch each other when Meret is nearby. Or maybe I am careful, and Wyatt respects my space. It lets me hover at the edges of their conversation, pretending to do things like clean the kitchen counter or answer email.
I am sitting in an armchair, chipping away at the mountain of unanswered messages in my inbox, when they finish their game and Wyatt shuffles in preparation for another.
