Page 42 of Insidious

“No.”

I search for the memory … but there is nothing. The panic climbs.

“I don’t remember much after dancing with my daughter in my arms … that night.”

“That’s okay.” He hastens to reassure me.

Davis leans forward slightly, his expression earnest. He has to be a good doctor, a small part of me thinks, because he makes you feel like he has all the time in the world for you.

“I’m going to ask you some questions. You can have Lily stay, or it can just be you, the nurse, and me.”

“I’m fine,” I say quickly. “I want her here.”

My heart is thudding in my chest.

The door opens, and Isaac walks in, balancing two cups of tea. Steam curls into the air. For a second, that’s all I can focus on.

The smell, warm and familiar. My mouth waters immediately, desperate for a cup.

Then our eyes meet. He stares at me wide-eyed, just inside the doorway.

His lips move to mouth “Luna” without a sound. Relief floods his face, and he takes a step forward.

Then, a strange expression crosses his face, and he hesitates. Isaac has never been like this. He is always touching me.

Pulling me onto his lap.

Wrapping himself around me like he can’t bear to be away.

When he drives, my hand is always on his thigh until I complain it’s gone numb.

When we sleep, he drags me over him like I’m his safety blanket, even while grumbling about my ice-cold feet.

And then, when everything was perfect, Chloe walked into that room.

Something changed in me that day. For the first time, I felt that he didn’t have my back anymore.

Now, I can see how the distance is hurting him, even as I can’t help myself. I can’t bring myself to forgive him yet for letting me down when I was vulnerable.

I am pulled back into the room.

“Your husband, right?” the doctor is saying, glancing towards the door.

Isaac is still standing here as if he is not sure I want him nearby.

“Would you like him here?” the doctor asks.

I nod. I don’t trust my voice just yet.

Isaac steps forward slowly, like he’s afraid I will change my mind but giving me that option.

He comes to stand near the bed—close, but not touching. The doctor turns back to me.

“How do you feel in yourself?”

I manage a small smile.

“Grimy. This tube has to go,” I say, pointing to the catheter.