Abruption

by Riley Mackenzie

  My porch light filtered in through a crack in my curtain, illuminating his profile. The tiny creases at the edge of his eyes now but a memory as the muscles in his face relaxed. I ran my finger along the fine stubble at the edge of his jaw line and traced along his lips. He was beautiful like this. Weightless. I wondered how often this happened. Probably never. He carried too much on his own and harbored a pain deep enough to shield with resentment. I stared out the window high to the heavens and silently whispered to a woman I’d never met. “You know he didn’t mean it. He just misses you. It’s hard to be ... left behind.” I wondered if I could be the one to share his weight. Was I strong enough to handle more?

  Seven years was a long time. I lay there trying to convince myself that maybe it was long enough to try and move on, or at least stop pretending for everyone else’s sake. But I knew I’d never truly move on, my wound was irreparable. There wasn’t a stitch strong enough to piece my heart back together. I was okay with that. But looking at Guy and feeling his warmth, I contemplated whether my steel armor could carry a little more—enough to help him begin to heal.

  I wasn’t going to give up. Not yet.

  I repeated my mantra: I can do this.

  My lids grew heavy listening to his soft snores, as an unexpected sense of peace filled in around me.

  I could ignore it, trample it, crush it with my fears.

  Or feel it.

  Be comforted by it.

  And revel in its warmth.

  Before drifting off, I whispered in English this time, “Like a ray of light, you have brightened my life and you made me laugh again.” I kissed the top of his head and dragged my fingers through his messed hair one last time. “I’m crazy about you.”

  “Suture.” My scrub nurse slapped the loaded needle driver against my hand. The feeling never got old. Standing in my OR with another patient, another life in my hands. It was an honor I would never take for granted, and the adrenaline rush—well, that was a perk of the job. I wondered if he had felt the same.

  I flashed back to a summer day, one I remembered so vividly it could have been yesterday. I’d tossed my dirt bike up against the garage door when I heard her call my name. My mother was sitting in some contorted position on our den floor with photos littering the couch cushions and coffee table in front of her. I’d seen them all before, my mother never shied away from reminiscing about my father. There were stories to go with each picture. And I knew them all, every single one. Resting on her palm was my favorite black and white shot of him dressed in scrubs and holding up an old X-ray for a group of younger residents standing behind him. My father’s profile was barely visible, but the expressions of awe and respect on his students’ faces were unforgettable. In that moment, I wasn’t sure why or how, but my ten-year-old brain made a decision. Maybe it was because I’d had my first trip to the ER the day before (split chin—ten stitches) and thought it was totally rad, or maybe it was because the father-son sail races were next week and my uncle was going to be out of town, or maybe it was the way my mother gazed adoringly at my father’s face with tear-filled eyes … or maybe it was fate.

  Confident in my revelation, I kneeled down on the floor next to her and shared, “You know, Mom, I’m going to be the kind of doctor that fixes aneurysms one day.”

  “Oh you are, are you?” She wiped away her tears.

  “Yep.”

  “Do you know what those doctors are even called?”

  “Aorta specialists?” All right, I had some research to do, but that wouldn’t deter me.

  My mother chuckled and her smile brightened the room. “It’s a vascular surgeon. And I have no doubt you’re going to do amazing things in life. After all, you are Dr. Finnigan Hunter’s son.” She tucked me up against her side and kissed my head. “You want to know what your father was probably saying to these students?” She flapped the old photo in the air. “Same thing he’d be saying to you right now … something he believed in wholeheartedly. If you work hard in silence, your success will be the noise.” She ran a gentle finger over my bruised chin. “You’re going to be the loudest one someday, my sweet boy.”

  There was no chance to wallow in the fact that I grew up without a father. Not that I would have. Or needed to. My mother was Superwoman on speed. Strong and feisty, she never gave me any inclinations of her single parent struggles. I could only pray my kids would have the same peace of mind. Because now I understood she lost so much more than the love of her life when that aneurysm ruptured. She’d been gypped. She was left alone to figure it out and do it all. Her words didn’t register right away, but Jules said it better than I ever could have. As hard as it is, you’re doing it. Every single day. Talk about history repeating itself. Minus the love of my life part. I’d never compare my mother’s loss to my own. Hell no.

  But what I didn’t want was for my kids to think I’d been gypped. And as much as I was still that ten-year-old boy longing to be a vascular surgeon, I wanted them more. No regrets. I’d do all of it over if I had to. Every single day. Only difference was someone made me realize that maybe I didn’t want to do it alone anymore.

  Bryce adjusted the suction and dabbed at the blood seeping from our newly revascularized colon anastomosis. It needed another stitch. Puncturing the fragile tissue one last time, I tied off the area that was oozing. I ran the entire bowel length one more time, meticulous not to miss anything, and tucked it back inside the abdomen. “Looks great. Good as new. Let’s close.”

  My circulating nurse hung up the wall phone and said, “Dr. Hunter. The SICU just called down requesting a consult. Said it was pretty urgent, old patient of yours, I think.”

  “Thanks, Cath. You good, Bryce?” I didn’t typically ask. Didn’t need to. He knew how I closed my abdomens. We’d done several thousand cases together over the years. But today he seemed to be in his own world. Quiet and edgy. Neither of which I would ever use to describe him. I’d ask him about it later. Hell, I was in a similar fog.

  “Yeah, I’m good. Not my first trip to the rodeo, done this once or twice, Hunter,” he clipped. So much for the later plan.

  Different place, different audience I would have said what the fuck is up with you? Back in the day I’d worked under quite a few surgeons who let their arrogance fly regardless. I vowed never to be that guy. Didn’t mean I wasn’t tempted. But right now was about my patient. When I stepped into my OR that’s all it was ever about. So I asked again, slowly and steel-faced so my point would not be lost on anyone. “You sure you’re good?”

  Bryce read me loud and clear, looked me dead in the eye and said, “Yeah, I’m good. I’ve got this.”

  If I had the slightest reservation, good friend or not, I would have thrown him out of my OR and closed myself. And he knew it. Content, I stepped away from the sterile field and ripped off my gown.

  “You around later?” Bryce’s question and tone stopped my retreat. I turned around and he was staring at me from over his mask.

  “Sure, why?”

  “Grab a beer? Need to run something by you.” From years of shooting the shit during cases, I knew Friday night was date night in his house. It was their thing—escape the toddler for a few hours and get a reprieve from chicken nuggets and mac and cheese. They’d even asked to borrow Maya once or twice when they were in a bind. So his bailing on date night for a cold one with me confirmed something was up.

  “Have to check in at home, should work though,” I told him.

  Tonight would probably work. Maya was home with the kids and already volunteered to hang late as she’d done the past two nights. She’d been off for a family ski trip earlier in the week, and even though I reiterated it was a well-deserved break and we managed fine with Jules’ help, she felt guilty because I paid her full salary regardless. She was good like that.

  And it was also the first weekend in a month that Jules wasn’t around. She had plans. Plans I wasn’t privy to. Plans she had casually dismissed without actually mentioning a single detail of said p
lans. Plans I wanted to get miraculously canceled. Fuck, I sounded whipped. Maybe shooting the shit over a few beers would help me find my sac.

  Of course Jules had obligations before me, before us, I got that. It was the secrecy that I wasn’t digging. All right, secrecy was a reach—it’s not like I’d actually come right out and asked her what she had going on. Why the fuck didn’t I do that? That layer of rust was thicker than I thought. Instead I stewed over her vague I’m really sorry, but I have to take care of a few things. But don’t worry, I promise I’ll be back in time for dinner on Sunday. I can’t wait to meet your mom.

  Maybe that rubbed me the wrong way too. Jules was all about family, bordering unhealthy enmeshment if you asked me, so the fact that she knew my mother was flying in this weekend and she committed to other plans kind of pissed me off. Selfish, I know.

  The last three weeks had been incredible and that didn’t just mean the sex. Don’t get me wrong, the sex was fucking awesome, best I’d ever had, but the woman that came with it was better. My kids were even enraptured, looking like they stepped foot on a Disney cruise every time she walked through the door. Add her giant lump of fur and they became obsessed. I had no clue my kids liked dogs until I witnessed the fit of giggles Casey drew out of them. One eye and all—which by the way, Jules, as brilliant as she was, lived in denial and insisted was degenerative changes. Whatever let her sleep at night, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t on alert for a shriveled eyeball every time I was at her place.

  But that was Jules. She never ceased to amaze me. I couldn’t have been more off base with my initial impression. She was not wrong when she’d called me a dick. Looking back, I’d projected my shit onto her and that wasn’t fair. She came from a place of yes like no one I’d ever met. So much so that when she wasn’t with the kids and me, which was often, she was busting her ass on getting her pet-therapy program off the ground. “Animals see straight to your soul and feel your pain. When you push the world away, they’ll never leave your side.” Because of her strong beliefs and enthusiasm, our hospital’s patients and staff were going to benefit. She was all about giving and I’d yet to hear her hint for anything in return. Another reason to tack on to my growing list of why … why she could be my more.

  I was a jackass for not asking.

  Now I was the one left pondering what she was or wasn’t doing. She promised she’d give me a heads up if we needed another minute. This felt like hers, not ours.

  Bottom line, tonight worked fine.

  “Screw it, I’ll bang out this consult and meet you across the street. Thirty minutes?” I asked.

  Bryce shook his head and let out a terse laugh. “I’m good, man. Not that good.”

  “First round’s on me then.” A few of the nurses picked up on my joke and giggled. Judging the size of the incision, time to transport and write orders, he was looking at well over an hour.

  “Yeah, yeah,” he mocked. I’d bet good money he also mumbled “dick” into his mask. I know I would have.

  “Make him pretty.” The nurses chuckled louder, while Bryce lifted his chin and pointed at the door, inviting me to get the hell out. That was more like it. Any doubts about his head in the game were gone. My cell vibrated. I pulled it from my scrub pocket and waved. “Got to take this.”

  “Maya, everything okay?” I bumped the OR door and headed out into the hall. I hated that I’d resorted to always thinking the worst.

  “No worries here. It’s getting late and I hadn’t heard from you. Everyone is fed and I’m getting them ready for bed. Finn’s sniffling a little, nothing crazy. Probably just a cold from all the kids on the playground, and it doesn’t help that it’s freezing.”

  Maya would never come right out and say it, but she was surprised when she found out Jules had bundled the kids up to meet Selena and her nieces at the park last Sunday. Maya steered clear of public playgrounds, especially with Finn. She sought out alternative outdoor excursions to avoid the “germ infestation” and to be honest, up until a few months ago Finn’s gait was still unsteady, so I appreciated not having to worry about jungle gym accidents. When I got called in for an emergency last weekend, Jules read my kids’ disappointment and insisted they go anyway. I wasn’t sure who was more psyched. There was no way I could have said no or even wanted to. The two were most likely unrelated, but I hated that Finn was probably getting sick again.

  “Listen, I was going to grab a quick drink with Bryce, but if you need me to come home I will.”

  Maya quickly responded, “Nah, I steamed him up in the bath, smeared some Vicks on his chest, and have the humidifier on. He’s good. I’ll call if something changes. I was planning on staying the night anyway since you’re on call tomorrow.”

  “Thanks, Maya. I don’t tell you enough, but I appreciate everything you do.”

  “You don’t have to thank me. I love your kids to pieces and we’re family. Besides, can’t beat the Christmas bonus around here!”

  Jules was spot on when she said I lucked out with Maya. Hopefully, Maya shared some genetics with Britt, and hopefully, my wife passed those down instead.

  “Have a good night, My. Try and get some studying in while they’re quiet.” I ended the call.

  My consult and rounding took an hour and then I was bellied up to the bar. My call started at six the next morning so I could have a few, but I couldn’t get plastered. Didn’t mean I didn’t want to. Between Jules and now Bryce, I’d had it with the fucking secrets. I hated being in the dark. And the “run something by you” comment wasn’t making me feel any better. I preferred our chats center around “hey, what car should I be looking at” or “who should I pick for March Madness?” This cryptic shit sucked.

  “Guess I need to catch up, shouldn’t be a problem tonight.” He slapped me on the back and took the stool next to me. I was surprised he was here so soon.

  “Beer?” I high signed the bartender.

  “Need something stronger.” He dragged his hand up and through his hair, reminding me of myself. I’ve never seen him like this.

  “Case finish up okay?”

  “Yeah, fine. Recovery took him right away, which was nice.” The bartender tapped his finger on the bar a couple of times and gave him a nod. “Jack neat. Make it a double.”

  “Shit,” I mumbled into the hollow of my beer. That order didn’t give me the warm and fuzzies. Guess the hoop brackets would have to wait.

  “Coming right up,” the bartender said before heading back down the length of the bar.

  “It’s Violet and the baby …” Bryce dove right in and I instantly had a sick feeling. “She had her routine screening two weeks ago, came back all lit up. Shit-ton of testing, genetic counseling, amnio, the whole nine—” The bartender set an amber glass in front of him, but Bryce just stared at it and mumbled with a venom laced tone, “Trisomy 13.”

  I let out a strained breath that said everything. Fuck.

  “Vi’s a mess. Fuck, I’m a mess. Ultrasounds, echos … you name an abnormality, baby’s got it. She can’t even talk about it, just cries every time she thinks we can’t hear her. Said she needs some time to think.”

  “Fuck,” I said it this time. My beer suddenly tasted stale remembering what it was like to live through a complicated pregnancy. Or two. Watch the woman you love struggle with maintaining her independence, yet wanting what was best for the baby. Or so you thought. At least our situation had hope. My kids had a fighting chance.

  “They offered termination. At best, a small percentage makes it to a year; most miscarry early or wind up stillborn if they make it to term. What kind of fucking odds are those?”

  “Dude, I’ve got nothing, wish to God I had something,” I said because there was honestly not a single thing to say. He knew it as well as I did, but sometimes you need to say shit to make it real. He needed to talk; I was here to listen.

  “Choice is ours, told us to make it sooner than later.” He drained his glass and raised his finger for another. “Doesn’t feel lik
e a choice. Feels like they just handed the baby we want more than anything a death sentence. How am I going to explain this to my son? He thinks he’s getting a little brother ... yeah, we found out it’s another boy. Vi said she was working toward a basketball team.” Bryce closed his eyes and shuttered his shoulders, shaking off the memory, no doubt.

  “Anything you need, man. Help with the little man? I’m sure Maya wouldn’t mind kicking in. I’ve got Jules, we’d figure it out.”

  I’ve got Jules. My stomach was on fire for Bryce and his wife, but somehow those three words helped soothe some of the sting.

  “Thanks, man. But what I need is for this to be a sick joke … what I need is for my wife to talk to me. I have no fucking idea what’s going through her head. She has completely shut me out. How do I make this okay for her?”

  I raked my own scalp. I was probably the worst person on the planet to give advice. “It’s a shock right now, she’ll come around. Just keep doing what you’re doing. You’re not gonna make it okay for her, just like no one has the power to make it okay for you. You’ve got to brace, dude, remember you’re in this together, and you’ll come out of the other side. What you guys have is strong, the real deal. My wife never told me shit and I was too fucking naive in la-la land to notice.” Did I say that aloud?

  “Shit, I didn’t mean to stir up all this for you. I’m just … I don’t know. Fuck. All our family is out West, which isn’t helping. I had no one to talk to.”

  He may have been spewing his shitstorm at me, but I gave him serious credit for not bottling it up. When Jules pressed me to open up, I was a coward and shut down. I sunk into her chest that night, buried myself in her heartbeat, and wished to forget.

  I should have told her.

  “Hey, don’t ever feel bad. I’m here. Know you have a handle on it, but if you need a second opinion, or think the wife could benefit from hearing it from different lips, I have a friend in Philly. She deals with all high-risk cases. She took care of Britt when she was pregnant with Max, as well as a good friend of mine from residency who suffered a crazy head injury. I trust her explicitly and I’m happy to make the call.”