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Breathing through my nose, I say, “Do you really think he would have cared if I told him? He went right back to work the next day. He was here for a whole week before I saw his face.”
“Simon, you need to talk to someone. You need professional help.”
A laugh rips out of me. “Are you really saying that to me?”
“Yes. I think these are the classic symptoms of PTSD.”
“Are you a doctor too now?”
“No. But I’ve been around plenty of them all my life to know these things. In fact, I’ve been married to one since long before you were born.”
“I’m fine.”
“Just because you are a doctor doesn’t mean you can’t fall sick,” she says like she’s explaining it to a kid. “You know that, right?
Sighing, I shake my head and sling my bag over my shoulders. “I have to go.”
“Are they taking her off life support?” Beth asks, knowingly.
“Yes.”
“And you’re going to do what?” She shrugs. “Ask them to not do that? Ask them to keep her going because you have this obsession with never accepting failure?”
“Are you done talking? I’m going to be late.”
“Do you really think that whatever study you’ve dug up this time is going to help her, Simon? Or are you doing this to make yourself feel better?”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “I’m leaving.”
Striding to the door, I snap it open, but I can’t take a step further without making sure Willow is safe. I turn around to face Beth. “In no way can this blow back on her. After this episode, she can’t leave tomorrow. No one, not the patients, not the staff, no one says a word to her. Not even you. They don’t even look at her the wrong way. Do what you have to do. Just take care of her. And… her mother. She’s going to be upset about this, but you need to make sure that she understands. What happened wasn’t Willow’s fault or her illness. She was…” Heartbroken.
And it was my fault. She went out of control because of me.
“Just make sure her mother understands so Willow doesn’t feel guilty.”
Beth has tears in her eyes and as much as I hate to see her cry, I can’t bear to be in this building. After tonight, I’m not coming back. I can’t stand the sight of it. I can’t stand the thought of walking the same hallways as my dad did.
“Do you know what your father’s biggest mistake was, Simon?”
Her words stop me in my tracks again but this time I want to hear the answer. I really do. I wait as Beth gathers her thoughts and wipes her tears.
“He let his love for her turn into a weakness. He was a great doctor, but he failed at being a man. Every time she went through an episode, he couldn’t take it. He couldn’t see her, so he stopped seeing her. He threw himself into saving the rest of the world because he knew no matter what he did, he wouldn’t be able to fix his wife. He forgot that all his wife needed from him was love and support. She didn’t need him to be perfect. She didn’t need him to cure her or fix her or make her better. She just wanted him to love her.
“You want to be better than your father? Then stop being a hero. Stop being so afraid of failing. You’re just a man. You make mistakes. Own them. Don’t run from them. Don’t run from yourself. Give yourself a chance to fall. Don’t fight failure. Fight to rise from them. Fight for your future. Isn’t that what you tell your patients? Fight. For once, fight for yourself. Save yourself. She doesn’t need a hero. She just needs you.”
That’s where Beth’s wrong.
Willow does need someone perfect. Because she’s fucking perfect. She’s a fighter. She doesn’t need someone who’s still chasing after his past and will always be chasing after it. She doesn’t need someone who can’t even accept his own weaknesses, right his own wrongs. Who gets terrified of accepting failure to himself, let alone to a room full of people like she did.
She doesn’t need someone who can’t fall asleep at night and when he does, he wakes up in cold sweats. Who throws himself into his work, in saving people because the other option is unthinkable. Panic-inducing.
She needs a true hero.
And I’m a broken one.
***
Somewhere around two miles from Heartstone, a band appeared around my chest. The farther I drive from the hospital, the tighter it becomes. Until it’s almost impossible to breathe. Until I’m almost sure I’ll have to stop and get help.
Just then, my phone rings. It’s my father’s nurse.
I manage to pick it up. “Hello?”
“Simon, it’s your dad,” she says. “He looks like he remembers. You should come see him.”
