by K. C. Crowne
“You’re gonna have to trust in those who care about you, and not use them as punchin’ bags for the horrible feelin’s I’m sure you’re tryin’ to keep at bay. You want to do somethin’ thrillin’ and scary? Well, this is it – lettin’ yourself be vulnerable, trustin’ other people with what’s precious to you.”
A knock sounded at the door on Roxie’s end. “Ah! Those are my ladies comin’ over for tea. I’m goin’ to let you boys go now – Paddy, you’re stronger than you think. Time to figure it out for yourself.”
She hung up, and I couldn’t bring myself to say a damn word. I felt ashamed, embarrassed and ashamed.
“Told you she’d set you straight,” Finn mumbled.
“Mind leavin’ me alone for a bit, brother?” I asked, my voice quiet and without any sting. “Gotta lot to think about.”
“I’ll leave you be. But Patrick, you’re never alone.” He rose, took the phone, and gave my shoulder a squeeze as he left.
I was a lucky man.
But it was time to be more than that.
I had to be a grateful one, too.
Chapter 26
LOLA
I watched Finn leave Patrick’s room, and to my surprise, he seemed happy.
I needed to go see Patrick, to make sure he was doing alright. Part of me didn’t want to do it. Part of me was scared of how he might act. He’d been on the verge of crossing a line into saying things he couldn’t take back. Every time I saw him was another opportunity for him to take his anger and frustration too far.
A few minutes – that’s what I’d give myself. My belly rumbled as if my body were giving its thoughts on what I needed to do. I’d stashed away a little food in the break room fridge, so I headed that way. A couple other doctors were in there chatting quietly, the TV still playing clips of the Stanley Hotel avalanche.
I didn’t look at the screen. I’d played the scene over and over in my mind enough. Last thing I wanted was to live through it again. I opened the fridge and rooted around until I found the strawberry-banana Chobani I’d put there this morning, a Luna bar leaning next to it. I grabbed both along with a clean spoon from the drawer. I ripped the foil top off the Chobani, eating the entire thing in a few bites. With the strawberry-banana taste still on my lips, I ripped open the Luna bar and did the same thing, eating it so quickly I barely had a chance to taste it. I scarfed it so fast, in fact, that the food got partially stuck in my throat and I had to wash it down with a long swig of water.
I leaned my back against the break room counter and let the food settle. I’d made such a commotion during my snack that the other doctors in the break room stopped their conversation to regard me with expressions of curiosity.
“I’m fine,” I said. “Just really hungry.”
That answer satisfied them, and they returned to their conversation. I refilled the water glass, sipping it slowly as I allowed my food to digest. And once my snack had settled, my thoughts returned to Patrick.
He was having a hard time, and I didn’t blame him one bit. His eyes were everything. I could only imagine how hard it would be for an artist like him to be on the verge of losing something that important to him. Of course, he was acting out a bit, but I didn’t need the opinion of the hospital’s psychology department to know what was going on – he was scared. He was scared and covering up his fear with bluster. It wasn’t pleasant to deal with, but it was understandable.
Most importantly, I knew what kind of man he really was. Patrick was the sort of man who donated his money to free clinics in order to make the world a better, fairer place. He was the kind of man who rushed headfirst into danger to save lives. He’d already shown me what he was made of, so I was willing to cut him a bit of slack when it came to his less than pleasant behavior.
I’d wanted to be there for him and thought the best way to do that was to be his doctor. But as a doctor I was professional to a fault. I knew myself well enough to understand my bedside manner could be a little…cold. Patrick didn’t need a doctor – he needed someone who cared about him. But it’d be impossible to be there for him in the way he needed if I was the one working on his eyes. I stood up straight as the answer dawned on me. There were tons of excellent ophthalmologists in the city, and I was on a first-name basis with nearly all of them. I’d make some calls, find out who was available to take care of Patrick’s surgery.
Once that was done, I could be there for him in the way he needed. I settled on the plan, a smile taking hold. A few moments after I straightened, a nausea more intense than I’d ever experienced before gripped my stomach. For a second, I worried I might puke right there in the break room.
Without a second’s hesitation, I rushed into the break room’s bathroom, locked the door, and dropped to my knees in front of the toilet. Every bite of food I’d shoved down splashed into the water. When it was all said and done, I stayed leaning over the toilet, my stomach aching and my face hot.
When I felt ready, I stood up and stepped over to the sink. Luckily, there was toothpaste left by doctors who’d pulled overnight shifts. I squirted a little on my finger and gave my teeth and tongue a quick scrub, hoping it’d be enough to do the job.
Something was wrong. I’d been getting strange bouts of nausea over the last few weeks, and now I was throwing up. I leaned over the sink, my hands on the sides as I regarded my expression in the mirror.
I knew in the back of my mind what the answer likely was. I’d been ignoring it for days, unwilling to let the word sneak to the forefront.
Pregnant.
The word caused my blood to run cold even though it was the perfect explanation for what was happening to me. And my period was late – it was never late.
I needed to find out. I hurried out of the break room and headed down to the pharmacy. On the way out I spotted Finn, and part of me wanted to stop and chat with him to see how Patrick was doing. But I was a bad liar – he’d know something was up.
Instead of just going to the pharmacy inside the hospital, I was in my car and driving as quicky as I could while still staying around the speed limit. I made a quick stop at the nearest drugstore and then was off to find a restroom. I’d purchased one of the fancy digital readout tests, which meant I’d only have to wait a few seconds for the results. I paced the small restroom as I waited, the test in my hands.
Positive.
I was pregnant.
My world turned upside down in an instant. An already complicated situation had become even more so.
I had to think of something, and fast. Patrick was the only guy I’d been with in years, so there was no doubt he was the father. And with everything happening, the last thing he needed was to have this dropped on his lap. He was stressed enough, and news like this would only make him more so.
I felt a strange sense of calm. There hadn’t been a problem in my life that I hadn’t been able to solve, and this would be no exception.
Chapter 27
PATRICK
I woke up the morning of the surgery feeling strangely peaceful. The sun was soft as it streamed in through the windows, the room quiet and calm.
I was ready.
I lay there for several minutes, trying to come to terms with what was going to happen. In an hour or so, I’d be on the operating table, Lola above me as she operated on my eyes and took the rest of my life into her hands.
The door opened and a nurse entered. “Good morning, Mr. O’Conner,” she said, her voice sing-songy. “How are you feeling?”
“About as well as I could hope for a man who doesn’t know if he’s going to be blind at the end of the day.”
She laughed a laugh that was a little too chipper considering the circumstances. “You’re going to be just fine. Dr. Willard will take good care of you.”
I snapped my head toward the sound of her voice. “Dr. Willard? No, Dr. Bridges is my surgeon.”
“Not anymore. She handed the surgery to Dr. Willard out of the Pitt Medical Boulder clinic.”
I was co
nfused. “Wait, what? Why did she do that?” Had I run her off with my poor attitude and bad behavior?
“Couldn’t tell you. But she’s here now, if you want to ask her yourself.”
I sat up straight. “She’s here now? Yes, please send her in.”
“Will do!” The too-chipper nurse bounced out of the room.
My heart began to race. What was going on? Why had Lola taken herself off the surgery? I wanted some answers.
When Lola appeared in the door, I knew I was going to get them. I was still having vision problems, but I could see she was dressed in casual clothes, not prepped for surgery.
“Morning,” she said as she walked closer to me.
“Lola, what the hell’s going on?”
She sat down on the edge of the bed and nodded. “She told you I was off the surgery, right? She’s kind of a blabbermouth.”
“And a little too damned happy for this early in the morning.”
Lola placed her hand on mine. “You’re going to be fine. You’re in good hands. I know it sounds scary with them poking around in your eyes, but this is a very routine procedure.”
Scary. Fear – like the kind that had been crippling me over the last few days. I needed to say something. I needed to make things right before I went under the knife.
“I’m sorry, Lola,” I said. “I’ve been acting like a spoiled child and I—”
She placed her hand on my shoulder, her touch silencing me. “It’s fine. You’ve got surgery ahead of you, and I want your head there. We can talk about all the rest after you’re patched up, okay?”
I nodded. “But why aren’t you the one doin’ it? You’re the best in the business – I trust your hands more than anyone’s.”
“Because this is hard for me, too. When I’m a doctor, I’m a doctor. I’m professional and distant. And sometimes that helps, but I’ve realized that other times it’s nothing more than a way of protecting myself from how badly this job can hurt. And right now, it’s preventing me from being there for you in the way I want to be, the way you need me to be.”
“But I don’t want you on the sidelines,” I said. “I want you in the game. I’ve been too proud to give myself over to your care, Lola. And I wanna make things right.”
She said nothing, and I could sense she was looking away, thinking over my words. The black dots were right over her face, blocking her features, and it killed me. There was nothing I wanted to see more than her face.
“It’s too late to take Dr. Willard off the surgery – he’s already moved his schedule around quite a bit to squeeze you in. But I can be in the room.”
“I’d like nothin’ more, love.”
She flipped her wrist over, checking the face of her watch. “It’s time. You ready?”
“I’m as ready as I’m gonna be to have my eyeballs peeled open like a couple of clementine oranges.”
She laughed. “Always one for the dramatics. And it won’t be that bad.”
I sucked in a deep, slow breath. “Then let’s do this.”
She squeezed my hand one last time before leaving the room. And the moment she was gone, all I wanted was her touch again, just one more time.
After she left, the room became a flurry of activity. Nurses came in and moved me to a wheeled gurney, taking me through the brightly lit halls of the hospital to the operating room. I was prepped and brought over to an operating table. The medicine they gave me didn’t quite put me under, but I wouldn’t really be aware of what was happening once it kicked in.
The doctor arrived, introducing himself and giving me a rundown of what would be happening. Evidently, they’d be injecting come kind of “bubble” into my eye that would press down over the area where my retina was detached. This would press the retina down, affixing it back to the blood vessel.
Most of what he told me went right over my head. And truth be told, all I gave a damn about was that I’d be able to see again.
As the team performed the final preparations for the surgery, I didn’t see Lola – as far as I could catch sight of anything.
“Where is she?” I asked. “Dr. Bridges?”
The doors opened and she entered, making a beeline to the table. “I’m here, Patrick,” she said, taking my hand.
A smile spread across my face. I could no longer turn my head since they’d strapped it in to hold me still. “Good to see you, doc.”
“Good to see you, too.” A heavy pause followed, and I could sense we were both thinking of the things we wanted to say to one another but couldn’t find the words for. She cleared her throat and spoke. “Dr. Willard is going to be leading. But I’ll be here, alright?”
“Alright. Thank you, Lola.”
Then she leaned in and kissed me softly on the cheek. “I love you. Everything’s going to be alright.”
“I love you,” I repeated without even thinking. I did. I loved her.
Her words were like a cool breeze over my worried mind.
I was ready.
Chapter 28
LOLA
There wasn’t much I could do once the meds were administered. I stood in the corner of the operating room and watched the team work. Dr. Willard was one of the more skilled eye surgeons in the state, but as I watched I found myself unable to resist walking over. When he turned to me as I sat, asking for my opinion on his technique, I couldn’t help but smile under my mask. I slipped between Dr. Willard and one of the nurses, eager to pitch in.
The damage to Patrick’s eyes was bad – bad enough that we’d recommended general anesthesia instead of the usual local. As I helped Dr. Willard, it became clear to me how close Patrick had come to irreversible eye damage.
But he wouldn’t have to know that. The only thing that mattered was correcting what we could correct. The rest of the surgery went off without a hitch. Once we cleaned Patrick and applied the bandages to his eyes, we rolled him to the assigned recovery room where he could sleep off the rest of his anesthesia.
Finn was in the waiting room, of course. He’d been there every step of the way for his brother. I’d already had tons of respect for the man but seeing how he’d handled the situation had brought my esteem for him to a new level.
He snapped shut his copy of the New York Times as I approached, standing up to greet me.
“How was it?” he asked. “My brother okay?”
“The surgery went as well as we could’ve hoped. I’m pretty confident he’ll get his vision back.”
The relief on his face was immediate. “Thank Christ,” he said. “Lola, I don’t know how to thank you.”
“No need for thank yous – just doing my job. And besides, Dr. Willard did most of the heavy lifting.”
“All the same,” he said. “You’ve been there every step of the way. And while Patrick might have a hard time showin’ it, there’s not a doubt in my mind he’s grateful as hell.” He glanced away, as if preparing himself to ask a difficult question.
“What’s up?”
“Did he ever come around? He’d been actin’ like a right prick about all this. But believe it or not, that’s just his way of showin’ how scared he is about the whole thing. He’s never been open about those sorts of things, always coverin’ how he feels with bluster. But you’ve been good to him. Maybe better than he deserved.”
“We all deal with fear in our own way,” I said. “Doctors know this better than anyone.”
“You’re right about that. But all the same, I wanted to thank you from the bottom of my damn heart for takin’ care of my little brother.”
“It’s my pleasure.”
He opened his arms and embraced me, making his gratitude clear. I hugged him tight, happy I was able to help.
“Now,” he said, letting me go. “When can I get a look at the poor bastard?”
“He’s recovering now – sleeping off the rest of the anesthesia. Should be up in a few hours. You’re more than welcome to stay with him so you can be there when he wakes up.”
“That’d
be perfect,” he said. “And what about you?”
“I cleared my week so I can take care of him. He has to wear those bandages for three days, and after that his vision should start improving. But until then, he’ll need some help.”
“Then it’s probably a good idea that we get him home and you stay at the guest house with him, yeah? Goes without sayin’, but you’re welcome to stay as long as you like.”
“I appreciate it.”
“Least we can do. Anyway, I’m gonna go get a peek at me brother. You wanna come with?”
“I’ll meet you in a few minutes. I’ve got some things to take care of first.”
“Perfect.” He gave me one last warm smile before hurrying down the hall to see Patrick.
The truth of the matter was that I didn’t need to take care of anything – I needed a few minutes to clear my head. I made myself a cup of tea in the breakroom – coffee was now off-limits – and stepped out onto the heated balcony that overlooked the hospital grounds.
I’d gotten so wrapped up in Patrick’s surgery that I’d somehow managed to forget about my pregnancy, to forget about the fact that in around eight months, I was going to have a freaking baby. I had no idea what was going to happen. Patrick was a good man, of that I was sure. But how the hell would he react to the news that he was going to be a father? Nothing about his lifestyle suggested in the slightest that he was interested in being a dad. The man didn’t even have a place to call his own. He said he’d been looking at more permanent places in the city, but it was far from a done deal.
And who knew what would happen to those plans once I told him about his impending fatherhood? Being a father meant being tied down, and it didn’t take a psychologist to understand that being tied down wasn’t something Patrick was fond of.
So I had to think of some backup plans. Snow fell gently as I leaned on the railing, cup of tea in hand. I resolved that if I had to be a single mom, I’d be the best damn single mom there ever was. It wouldn’t be easy finding time to raise a child between my regular job and time at the clinic, but I’d make room – I’d do whatever it took.