by Dianne Drake
“That’s ridiculous. How can taking a blood thinner elevate to psychiatric counseling?”
“It was wrong, but it happened. And my psychiatrist, once she understood the situation, was fighting for me. But once the word is whispered, you can’t take it back. I was being called a threat to my unborn child, and it was only after I finally told my dad what was happening that he stepped in and, well, long story short, I spent the rest of my pregnancy in his hospital, under the care of another high-risk obstetrician. But it all came back when Riku was born sick. The threats to take him from me. To declare me unfit to be a mother.
“Words, Eric. Once they’re spoken you can’t un-speak them. Accusations are the same way. Once they’re made, if people believe them, they’re not inclined to be talked out of what they think they know.”
“And you couldn’t tell me this?”
“I couldn’t. Even now, aren’t you wondering if what they said is true? There were so many problems with me, with Riku... Don’t I look like I could be complicit in some way?”
“No!” he said, fighting to remain calm. “That’s not you.”
“Even after I made a rather controversial decision to delay his surgery when, traditionally, it’s done when the child is much younger?”
“Under your doctor’s advisement, Michi.”
“My family and all my doctors stood behind me, Eric. But one person who misunderstood something she saw almost cost me my son. It was a tiny, tiny snowball that avalanched. And because I’d lost pregnancies in the past, all I knew was that I had to withdraw from everything to give Riku a fighting chance to get into the world. So, while I was being threatened, and even watched, I simply shut my eyes to everything, including you, and the only thing I allowed in my mind was my baby. So, it’s not fierce independence you saw as much as abject fear. And it damaged me. I don’t trust. I’m always afraid that something I’ll do will cause more problems.”
“Are you getting help, Michi?” he asked, kneeling next to her and taking her hand.
“I have. And I will again when I go back home. But the stigma of it all, Eric... I can’t deal with it and be there for Riku. I know I overcompensate by being protective, but what if I take him out on a chilly day, and someone thinks he’s not dressed warmly enough? Or what if they see him without his oxygen and don’t know he’s allowed to be off it from time to time?” She swatted back tears.
“What if I came here and told you that you have a son you never knew about, that he’s sick, that I went against traditional advice on when the surgery should be done and did what I believed to be right? Maybe to you it would make sense. But to someone else like the social worker who saw me take my blood thinner and had me arrested for it? That’s why I’m scared all the time, Eric. They labeled me with a syndrome I don’t have, accused me of things I didn’t do and I’m always afraid that there’s going to be a third round, and this one I’ll lose.”
“I wish I’d known,” he said.
“Then what? You’d start watching me, too?”
“I don’t even know what to say because if I didn’t know you, I might have. Or you might have, if you suspected abuse in one of your patients.” He sighed heavily. “I’m so sorry. But you’re not in this alone. None of it. And for what it’s worth, I know there’s nothing about you that’s unfit. I trust that, Michi. Trust it and believe it. And I’ll go to the mat for you if that’s what I have to do to make it right.”
“Thank you,” she said, then leaned forward and fell into his arms and sobbed. And for the next half-hour neither of them spoke. There were no words to say. Only emotion, and deep, deep pain. For both of them.
* * *
“Do you think they’ve had enough time to get everything set for the afternoon?” she asked, knowing her face was swollen now, which would only make her look worse than she had before. “I need to hold him. Or sit next to him. Whatever he’s up to tolerating.”
“Let’s give them a few more minutes. The nurses here are thorough. They’re going to take care of Riku the way you would. And it’s only been a little over half an hour.”
Thirty-plus minutes that seemed like forever. Like when she was a child and one of her parents would tell her to wait a few minutes for something—to open a gift or have a piece of birthday cake. So much of that little girl was still in her—the one who was always impatient to make things happen. Probably because everything behind her now still scared her and her only hope was going forward as fast as she could to get away from it.
“When I was a little girl, I always knew I was going to grow up to be a doctor. It was the life I lived because of my parents, the only life I knew. And even when I was young, I understood how what they did was important. Sometimes one or the other would take me to work with them, and I’d see all the looks of admiration people would give them. It made me proud to be their daughter, to be part of something that made such a huge difference in the lives of so many people.
“So that was always set for me. There was never a time that I didn’t want to be a doctor.”
“Was being a physiatrist something you always wanted?” he asked.
Michi laughed. “No. That came when I was in medical school, and I saw the difference that could be made in a group of people who might not have anywhere else to turn. Part of our practice deals with helping people overcome the disabilities they’ve received from strokes or accidents. Apart from the therapy they need, we offer them lifestyle, and changes that can make an overall difference in quality-of-life issues. So maybe we can’t get someone out of a wheelchair, but we can teach them to live their life to the fullest with their other capabilities.
“Modern medicine doesn’t always know what to do with those who don’t make a full recovery but recover enough to get back to life. So, when I saw that happening, I knew that was what I wanted to do. For me, it’s exciting knowing I can be part of something so life-changing, so important.”
“But there are medical consequences, aren’t there?”
“Of course there are. The people who come to me are injured or physically broken. They need modern medicine to help them get along. Therapy, medications...you name it. In my case, I specialize in athletes. One of my partners is all about stroke recovery. Another is about degenerative disease processes like arthritis and neuro-muscular diseases. We have a pediatric specialist, who will work with Riku when the time comes, and someone who specializes in teenagers.”
She paused and smiled. There were times when she thought she’d moved so far away from her world that she’d never get back to it, not fully. But something about Eric gave her optimism, and she truly hoped he could find his way back to his real world as well. That was where he was happiest and she did so want him to be happy. “People survive injuries and conditions that not so long ago would have killed them. My job, as a doctor, is to teach them how to survive through any means we have available.”
“You wouldn’t have had the patience to be a surgeon, would you?”
She laughed. “You noticed that in me? Because you’re right. I like results I can see and patients I can form a long-term bond with. As a surgeon, you don’t get to have that. Your patients get fixed, and you’re only allowed to see the tip of the iceberg with that. Sure, you may have follow-up appointments, but those don’t last long. And your bond is only for that short period of time that child is your patient. Then there’s another child, another temporary bond.
“My patients stay. And I like that because I love watching progress over the long term. So, no, I couldn’t have done what you did. You save a child and you take the front spot as the hero. I teach a patient with ankylosing spondylitis a better way to sleep to give him pain relief over the long term, and there’s no one in the hall outside their hospital room giving me a hero’s accolades. But that’s OK because if my patient does sleep better because of me, I’m happy.”
“Well, your seminar was an eye-ope
ner for me. I was actually considering bringing a physiatrist into my practice for a little while. I’d even decided to talk to you about coming over to set it up for me. But we all know how that turned out, don’t we?”
“Unfortunately,” she said, smiling as she thought of Riku getting to the point where physiatry would benefit him. She’d never thought that far ahead before. But now the future was creeping in and she didn’t want to stop it.
“So, his name. Why did you decide on Riku?”
“First, because it’s a traditional name. Depending on how it’s spelled in Japanese, it can mean several things. The way I spell it, it means enduring for a long time. I suppose I needed that reassurance, given the difficulties he had at birth.”
“Does he have another name?”
“Like what you would consider a middle name? You do know that in Japan we don’t use middle names. Even our documents such as passports and family registries have no place to write a middle name. But because Riku is half-yours, out of respect for your culture I did give him a middle name. It’s Haru, spelled to mean eternal treasure. Because that’s what he is. My eternal treasure.”
“Riku Haru... Sato?”
“Yes, Sato.”
“It’s strong. The way he will be after his surgeries.”
“I’m surprised you don’t want to get your name in there somewhere. Isn’t that a tradition, to give the firstborn son part or all of the father’s name?”
“It is, and I’m actually the fourth Eric Alexander Hart in line. And, no, Riku doesn’t need my name. There’s no thought to it. And his name...it’s all about thought and love. It’s a good name, Michi. A very good name.”
She was glad, because for a little while she’d thought about calling Riku Eric. But that had changed when she’d first set eyes on her baby and had known he needed something from her tradition. Something that would give him a strong identity later in his life. And to her, his name promised a life beyond his illness.
“I really do need to get back to him,” she said, twisting in Eric’s arms to pull herself away from him. As she pushed away, though, a tingle of dizziness washed over her, probably from worry or a lack of sleep or eating. She wasn’t worried, because whatever had caused it would go away once she was back sitting next to Riku’s bed. But another step brought on even more spinning, and Michi reached out to Eric to take hold of his arm to steady himself. “Maybe I should have eaten something after all,” she said, shutting her eyes to let the wobbly floor around her settle down. “One of those pastries earlier.”
“Michi, are you OK?” Eric took a firm hold of her arm and held tight as she reached for the wall to hold herself up.
But the tightness in her chest was barely allowing her to breathe. “Just tired,” she said, trying to regain her bearings. “I wasn’t expecting any of this. Even though I knew the surgery had to happen, I never really admitted it to myself, and now that it’s so close...” She went to turn around but instead staggered into him. “Maybe after we’re sure Riku’s going to be OK, you can sit with him while I go find something to eat.” His gentle hand on her arm caused another shiver, but this time it was from the awareness of how close they were standing, of how she could hear his every breath and almost feel the beat of his heart.
“Maybe I should carry you,” he said, his voice so low it nearly blended with the night.
“You offered to do that once before. Remember?” Their night together, when he’d offered to carry her to his room. It had been a romantic gesture, but as unnecessary then as it was now. “But, no, I don’t want to be carried. I’m perfectly capable of getting there on my own.” Yet maybe with some of his help. “I may be a little dizzy, but it’s nothing that requires a knight in shining armor to come to the rescue. I just need to go back to Riku. Make sure his favorite teddy bear is tucked in bed with him.”
He nudged her chin up with his thumb. “What you need is to follow doctor’s orders, and this doctor is prescribing a knight in shining armor, even if only for a little while. You need someone to take care of you so that when he needs you, you’re up to taking care of Riku.”
“But I don’t want to be carried,” she said, looking into his eyes. “No one’s ever had to do that for me, and now’s not the time to see if what happens in the romance novels really works. You know, the hero whisks her into his arms, carries her off, and all is well. That’s not my story, Eric. Mine’s where I do everything I can to get from day to day. That’s the way it’s been for a long time now.”
“Maybe you don’t need someone to carry you in the literal sense,” he continued, “but in the sense that even you need to give in and let someone take care of you from time to time.”
“Even after what I’ve done to you?”
“Even after what you’ve done to me. But also, even after what’s been done to you. Your needs count, Michi. You’ve taken so much of the bad for so long I think you may have forgotten there’s good out there for you, too.”
“It is. My parents, my brother...the rest of my family.”
“I’m part of that family, you know. Maybe not in the way most people would consider it. But we all have one thing in common...wanting the best for Riku. And for you. And if that means me having to pick you up and throw you over my shoulder...”
Michi stepped back from the door then turned to face him, stood on her toes and kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you for listening,” she said. “And caring. You make things easier.”
His gaze locked in on Michi’s face, taking in the vulnerability in her eyes, the fear in her face. “I hope to make them better as well,” he said, realizing he was as caught in her spell as he had been that one night they’d had together. He’d wanted her like he’d wanted no other woman before, and no one had come close to filling that need in him after her. Her intellect, her determination, her sense of duty...and her beauty. One look at her had told him he was way out of her league. Women like that didn’t happen in his life, so he’d walked away from it with regrets, knowing it was only a fantasy. This time he wasn’t walking away from it.
“Michi,” he said, as she turned away to finally leave. “What about you? Do you want to work on making things better between us...not just for Riku but for us?”
“I do, but...”
“But you still don’t trust me enough?”
She shook her head. “No, I do trust you. But I don’t want to be divided. Not right now. Not when Riku needs all of me.” She brushed her hand across his cheek. “Everything is so tentative, and I’m just...just not in that space. But I want to be, Eric. I promise, I want to be, and I hope you’ll be patient with me for a while because, right now, Riku comes first.”
“I understand,” he said, helpless to back away from her, from them... But her words gave him hope, and that was all he needed for now. A little hope, a vision of the future filling him with desires and wild thoughts of things he’d never imagined for himself. So, with a gentle hold, he cupped the back of her neck and kissed her deeply, possessive in his touch yet still tentative.
Was this taking advantage of her now that she was so defenseless because of a situation neither of them could control? Or did she need his toughness the way he needed hers? “Should we stop?” he asked, twining his fingers through her silky hair.
She didn’t answer right away, which he feared was her answer. But then suddenly Michi’s body melded to his with an answering moan, and she offered up her mouth in a ravaging need he understood. Desire overtook him with a searing shudder, then took hold of his conscience. And it felt like a dagger piercing his heart when common sense finally returned, and he gripped her arms and pushed her back, his breaths so labored he feared he would be overtaken by lightheadedness.
“As much as I hate to say this, we can’t do this because neither one of us can know what it is. Not in a real sense.” He dropped his hold on her and stepped back. “And trust me, if circumsta
nces were different, I wouldn’t be walking away from this. Not this time. But we’ve got to take it slowly right now, to see what’s there after Riku has recovered. Anything else could hurt all three of us. So, I’m sorry, Michi. I should never have started this. Will you forgive me?”
“I did before,” she said, then turned away from him and finally left the waiting room. Her steps down the hall, as he watched from the doorway, were slow, though. And he wondered if he’d made her cry. God help him, that was the last thing he’d wanted to do.
CHAPTER EIGHT
THE DAY DRAGGED BY with surgical prep and adjustments to the various equipment and tubes Riku was hooked to. Michi spent a good bit of the rest of the day with her family, especially her parents, who’d flown in from Japan, while he caught up on work, not going into the office but doing it by phone. Then the night turned into one of the longest of his life. Maybe even the longest.
Riku was sleeping soundly now, and even though it was early, he and Michi took to their respective recliner chairs, made themselves comfortable, and didn’t sleep. He’d offered to split the night with her, staying awake for half of it while she slept, then switching around. But she’d declined, claiming she was too wound up to sleep.
Truth was, he was wound pretty tight himself. So, there they’d sat, hour upon hour, quietly, so as not to waken Riku. He’d stared at the ceiling most of the time. And whenever he’d glanced over at Michi, she’d been watching Riku. He wanted to talk to her, or hold her or do something, but she wasn’t going to leave Riku’s side, and to stay there meant being extra quiet.
Once, when Riku stirred and set off an alarm, they both practically jumped to get to his bedside, but she was faster. More practice, he supposed. Thankfully, it was nothing. Riku had tried turning, causing one of his wires to come loose, tangling his chubby little fist in it. Michi took care of it, of course, then settled back into her chair once Riku had gone to sleep again.