Reviewed headaches.
Approved longer work periods with rest.
Confirmed the upcoming scans.
Then she smiled.
“If imaging is stable, I want to see you every two weeks rather than weekly.”
Noah stared.
“You’re releasing me?”
“I am reducing surveillance.”
“Same emotional effect.”
“You are moving into another phase of recovery.”
He looked toward me.
Pride and fear mixed in his face.
I gave him my hand.
After the appointment, we went to a café.
Noah ordered decaf with visible resentment and eggs with roasted tomatoes.
He kept checking his phone.
“The clinic will notify us.”
“I know.”
“Looking does not accelerate laboratory work.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do.”
“What time does mail arrive?”
“The results are electronic.”
“The printed copies may arrive.”
“You want to drive home and stand beside the mailbox?”
“I want to finish breakfast quickly.”
We did.
In the station wagon, he bounced one knee until his hip complained.
“Stop.”
“I’m not doing anything.”
