Then there is nothing, just an abrupt, blissful quiet.
Fifteen
“Good news, Sean,” the emergency room doctor, a plucky young man with a full blond beard who insists I call him Barry instead of Dr. Liederman, says, nine hours later. “Your head CT came back normal. I think you’re right, and you just had a vasovagal episode.”
“Great,” I grumble. “Does that mean I’m free to go?”
“You’re free to go,” Barry says. “Just remember to stay hydrated and keep wearing those compression stockings.”
“Andrest,” Julian chimes in from the chair by my bed. He sits with his elbows propped on his knees, the picture of the concerned, attentive partner. The nurses keep referring to him as my husband, and he doesn’t bother to correct them. In fairness to him, neither do I. Julian has spent the entire night sitting dutifully at my side in an emergency room, sneaking ginger ales from the nutrition cupboards and charming the nurses into bringing me warm blankets. It would seem petty to clarify our relationship to well-meaning strangers when he’s all but acting the part.
“Definitely do that too,” Barry says with a laugh. “Get well soon. Deb should be back soon with your discharge papers.”
Then he sweeps out of the room, off to tend to his ever-growing list of much sicker patients.
I release a slow groan. My annoyance at being stuck in an emergency room aside, I’m relieved to learn that I am not dying. As much as I’d suspected that I’d just fainted the normal way, in the split second before I lost consciousness, I’d feared the worst: a ruptured aneurysm, a brain bleed that would take away my mobility and send me into an early retirement. But they’d found nothing.
Julian stands, yawns, stretches. The white tee he’d been wearing under his button-down rides up to reveal a strip of taut tan skin, an arc of a hip, a dark, sparse trail of hair that thickens before dipping beneath the waistband of black boxers. I follow the path of it hungrily, then whip away, mortified, becausehow can I possibly be thinking of that right now?In the copious downtime since we arrived in the emergency room, I’ve tried to reconcile my memory of our face-off with Melody with the reality of the man who tends to me now. The way the dance floor seemed to drain of color the moment he stepped onto it, how every blood vessel in my body had hardened into steel when he touched Melody’s face. His whispered commands, words that skimmed past my skin like feathers, our collective compulsion to obey.
A few years ago, Winny and I saw a magician live. He’d invited a guest onstage to demonstrate his skills at hypnotism, a prim middle-aged woman who went from skeptical to barking on all fours after a few choice words. I’d always thought it was bullshit. Now I’m not so sure.
You’re overthinking again.It’s much less likely that Julian is secretly capable of mind control and much more likely that he is simply very hot, and hot people tend to get what they want.
“Thanks for staying with me,” I tell him.
The look that Julian gives me is one of pure misery.
“This is my fault,” he says. “You were sick on Thursday. Instead of resting, you showed up to look after me, and I’ve been taking advantage ever since.”
I give him a rueful look and turn over my arm to examine the IV in the crook of my elbow. I’ve been pumped full of electrolytes and fluids and feel remarkably better.
“Way to take away my agency,” I say grimly. “I’ve felt pretty good since Thursday night, and I’ve definitely worked through worse days.”
“Just because you have doesn’t mean youshould,” he says. “Promise me you’ll take it easy today. Stay in bed.”
I’m about to concede but remember that I have one more very important obligation.
“Sophie’s dance recital is tonight,” I say. “I have to be there.”
Julian turns abruptly to look at me head-on.
“Tonight?” he repeats. “What time?”
“It starts at six,” I say. It’s seven a.m. right now; the recital is barely eleven hours away. “I’ll get a nap in before I drive over—”
“No,” Julian says plainly.
I recoil, stunned. I’m not sure whether it’s out of annoyance at his presumption or if I’m the tiniest bit into the command in his tone.
“What do you mean, no?” I sputter.
“I mean, no, you’re not driving. You justpassed out, Sean. Don’t tell me you think a forty-minute drive both ways is at all wise.” Julian crosses his arms. “I’ll take you.”
“There’s no need,” I say. “You heard Barry. It was hot in that room, I was dehydrated, and I probably vagaled. You’re traveling tomorrow, and you’ve been up all night. You should pack and—”
Julian narrows his eyes.
“I just want some time alone,” I emphasize. “I spent all yesterday talking to people, and last night was…”Strange.“Exhausting.”