“What were you thinking?” Beth asks, angrily. “Do you have any idea what would’ve happened if someone else had walked in?”
“Why don’t you enlighten me?” I say to her, but I’m focused on the drizzle outside.
I watch it through the window of my office, annoyed, angry. Fucking frustrated.
What wouldn’t I give to walk out of here and never look back?
I knew it was a giant mistake when I took this job. And not for the reasons I thought it would be.
From the corner of my eye, I notice Beth moving closer. “Simon, this is a hospital. People are up and moving all the time. It’s a miracle no one else saw you.”
A gust of wind bends the tree, almost breaking it in half. But it snaps right back up. That tree reminds me of someone. Someone with blue eyes and pale skin.
Abruptly, I turn away from the window. “No one saw me doing what?”
“You know exactly what I mean,” she snaps. “Stop making everything difficult. I’m trying to look out for you.”
“Look out for me for what reason? I was doing my job. Or is that not why you hired me?”
She shakes her head. “You know what people will say.”
I cross my arms across my chest and shoot her a hard look. “I thought you didn’t believe what people said.”
She purses her lips and I know it’s coming. Her platitudes. I fist my hands, feeling the crackle of energy go through my knuckles.
Why doesn’t she leave it alone? I’m doing everything I can to fix it. Fucking everything.
“What happened at Mass General, with Claire and the rumors… it was unfortunate. It could’ve happened to anyone and yes, that includes you too. I know you think you’re invincible or a god, maybe. But you’re human and you have to be smart, Simon. Joseph has been wanting you here for years. This is your father’s legacy and it’s yours, if you want it…”
“But?”
She raises her eyebrows. “The board of directors is taking this as a trial run and I don’t want you to blow it. This is still a hospital. People talk. We have a zero-tolerance policy, but I can’t be there all the time to enforce it. If you are seen hugging a patient, a beautiful, young patient, then there’s not much I can do.”
“I’m not asking you to do anything.”
“I know you asked to meet with her this week. Again.”
I narrow my eyes at where she’s going with this. “And?”
“I’m glad you’re taking an interest in the patients. Joseph has always tried to be involved with them as much as he could. But as you know, sessions and any individual therapy are left up to other trained professionals.”
“What’s your point?”
“My point is that you can focus on other things. In some in-patient facilities people don’t even get to see their psychiatrist. You don’t have to be so involved.”
“Excuse me?”
“Simon, is there… Is there anything between the two of –”
“Beth,” I cut her off, sighing sharply. “Do you really think that I would do something like that with a patient after what I’ve seen?”
I’ve known Beth all my life. When I was a kid, she’d bring over casseroles when my mother was going through her episodes. My father made himself scarce during such times, especially during such times. And my mother would break just a little more than she already was, every time he wouldn’t come home, choosing to spend his time at Heartstone.
Beth has seen all this. She and Joseph, Dr. Martin, have been there every step of the miserable way.
Sadness washes over her face. “Oh, Simon. I –”
I cut her off again because I can’t take her pity. I’m not that hungry little kid anymore, and neither am I weak and pathetic like my father.
“Look, I was just doing my job. She’s my patient. I know my boundaries. I’m not my father.”
I’m better than him.
At the heel of my words though, I feel something. A softness, as if warmth is still pressing up against me in the shape of a tiny body.
Her body. Her long, wavy, moon-like hair.
The only reason I don’t do it is because I can’t take leaving something behind.
I shove my hands inside my pockets and with them, I shove those nonsensical thoughts away, too.
“Do you blame us? For what happened to your mom?” Beth asks, tears in her eyes.
I don’t talk about my mother a lot. The last time I mentioned her was to a twelve-year-old boy, Dean, when I found him at the cemetery.
“The only person I blame is my dad,” I say, hoping that she walks away now.
“She was good at pretending, Simon. We all thought she was doing okay. We thought she was in a good place. We had no idea that she was that far gone. We thought we knew her. We did everything to make her happy when your father wasn’t around.” Tears fall down her cheeks. “But then, maybe we didn’t. I don’t think I can ever forgive myself for not… doing enough.”
That’s what I think about too.
Did I do enough? Was I there for her enough? If I was, then why did she do what she did?
Why did she leave me behind?
I spent a lot of time thinking about that. I’d replay all the moments, all the things we did together, my mother and me. How I’d quit everything to be with her, so she never felt alone. How I’d stay up all night if I had to because she couldn’t sleep.
I did everything that a good son would do. Everything.
Over the years, I’ve come to realize that it wasn’t me. It was him. He killed her. Not her illness. Not the meds.
Him.
And I was left behind.
I wonder if she thought about me in those final moments. If she thought about her son and how she was leaving him behind.
“It wasn’t your fault. It was his fault,” I say with gritted teeth. “He was the one she wanted, and he wasn’t there. He was a fraud, my father. People think he’s this legendary doctor, saving everyone, when he couldn’t save his wife. He couldn’t even stand her and her illness. And my mom knew that. If it weren’t for him, she’d still be alive.”
“He was a lousy father, Simon,” Beth begins after a few moments, wiping her tears off. “A lousy husband. Believe me, I know. You don’t have to forgive him. We don’t have to forgive him. But please, don’t throw away something good, something amazing because of him. You can do so much here, at this hospital. Please.”
I jerk out a nod, thawing slightly.
“Tell me you’ll be careful.”
Sighing, I nod again. This one isn’t as tight as the first one.
Beth’s right. She’s looking out for me like she’s always done. The least I can do is not make things difficult for her.
But when she leaves, I hear it again.
Willow’s voice.
It’s soft and scratchy, a little hoarse. The kind of a voice that can get stuck inside a man’s head.
The only reason I don’t do it is because I can’t take leaving something behind.
***
It’s raining inside the room.
I watch the droplets hitting the old hardwood floor, forming a small puddle.
Plop. Plop. Plop.
The ceiling in the study is leaking. The discolored patch growing, expanding right in front of my eyes.
Fuck.
This is probably the third time I’ve seen it happen in the last week alone. No matter how much I fix this house, plaster over the cracks, there’s no saving it.
I pinch the bridge of my nose and think about probably getting outside help. Maybe I can hire someone to come do this for me. In fact, I should. I don’t have time to fix this house.
I don’t even know why I’m fixing this piece of crap. I wasn’t even supposed to be here tonight. But I took Dean and his sister out for a pizza because apparently, he was in the mood for one. That’s what he told me, but I know the truth.
I could guess. His dad was out of town and he was scared. I would be, too. In fact, I was that kid.
When I dropped them off, instead of driving away, I walked inside this house. And instead of walking right back out, I decided to work on the stairs leading down to the basement.
I have no idea why my father let it get this bad, the apparent perfectionist.
Either way, it’s not mine, this house. It never was. It never will be. I don’t want it. Like I don’t want Heartstone or my father’s legacy.
I can’t wait to get back to Boston. That’s my life. But then again, I don’t know if I’m going to get it back.
Reaching for my cellphone on the desk, I approach the window and dial the number I’ve been wanting to. I know it’s late at night, but he won’t be sleeping.
It rings a couple of times before I hear the click.
“Simon,” Greg, my colleague and only friend at Mass General, greets me from the other side.
“Hey,” I say, staring at the willow tree in my backyard.
I spent a lot of time under that tree while growing up and ever since I got back, I can’t look away from it. That tree has survived a lot. The years of me growing up, my mother’s death, my leaving.
That tree is a survivor. A fighter.
Like its namesake.
“I was hoping I wouldn’t get this call,” he says, thankfully pulling me out of my thoughts.
“Well, you can’t always get what you want,” I say drily.
“Man, you gotta let it go. It doesn’t look good, with the whole lawsuit hanging over your head.”
It’s not as if I haven’t heard the word lawsuit before. But every time I hear it a jolt goes through my body. Like I’ve been electrocuted, making me flinch.
I’ve never paid any attention to these HR things. I never had to. I have an impeccable record. Or had.
“I don’t care about the lawsuit. How is she?”
Greg sighs. “She’s the same.”
I rub my forehead; I feel a headache coming on. I’m trying to remember if I have any sleeping pills lying around or if I’ll have to make a run to the drugstore.
“I’m meeting her parents at the end of the week to discuss options.”
My fingers halt their movements and a raging ache explodes in my skull. “Fuck options. There is no other option.”
“It’s been almost two months. Her condition isn’t improving, you know that. And I’m sorry to say it’s not going to. It’s time to let her go. Her parents are tired, too. Their money is running out. The insurance is not gonna cover everything –”
“I told you money is not a problem. I can write you a check right now.”
“No, you won’t. I’ll personally make sure that your check doesn’t come through because you’ve lost your fucking mind.”
“You’re not pulling the plug.” I almost crush the phone in my hand. “You’re not killing her.”
“She’s dead already,” Greg snaps.
I clench my eyes shut at the onslaught of pain. It should feel hot, this magnitude of pain. Red and pulsating. But in my experience, my pains have always had a chill to them. A sting. A frostiness.
A partial numbness where all I can feel is the cold, the hard center of it, and nothing else.
“Look,” Greg says. “You can’t even think about getting yourself involved with Claire any more than you already are, Simon. They’re going to see your money, your phone calls as a sign of guilt.”
“I told you I don’t care about the lawsuit. Her parents can sue me for everything I am, I don’t care. I want Claire to come out of this alive. I fucked up, Greg. I shouldn’t have but I did. She can’t pay the price for it.”
“Damn it,” he mutters. “Simon –”
“Just give me more time.”
He’s silent for a moment. Then, “I can give you two weeks.”
My head drops in relief and I stare at the puddle of leaking water. “Two weeks. Okay. Yeah.”
“But just that. No more. We’re pulling the plug after that.”
I know that’s the right course. I’m aware that patients like Claire don’t come back from their coma. But I have some ideas. I have scheduled a phone call with a group working at Berkley. They work with ABI – Acute Brain Injury, and I’m going to present Claire’s case to them.
“Okay,” I agree, letting it go.
“Good. Now don’t call me, I’m busy entertaining and I suggest you do the same.”
“Entertain, you mean?”
“Yes.”
My lips pull into a smile. “With what? Sausages?”
“Fuck you, man. I’ve got a good thing going here.”
“Who’s the lucky lady?”
“A drug rep.”
“No kidding. You hate drug reps.”
“This one’s got a great pair of legs.”
I smirk. “Is she aware that you’re not going to buy whatever she’s selling?”
“Hey, I’m open to whatever she’s selling. And as I said, you should do the same. Maybe that’ll take your mind off everything. Got any sexy doctors or drug reps or you know? Nurses?”
At his question, my eyes go to the willow tree again. “No, and I’m not interested.”
“Whatever. Though you do need to get laid. How long has it been, three months?”
“Didn’t know you kept tabs on my sex life.”
“Fuck you. Again. All right, I’m out.”
We say our goodbyes and then, it’s silence. Or actually, not. Because I hear her.
Do you have someone special, Dr. Blackwood?
I hear the words as if she’s here, in this room. As if I brought her with me. Inside this shaky debris of a house.
Willow Audrey Taylor, with her silver hair and blue eyes, and a fucking voice that sticks.
I wonder what she’ll think of this. The dusty furniture, the leaking roof, broken stairs. The fact that this house is stuck in the past.
You like fixing things, don’t you?
I wonder if her pale skin will light up this house, like the moon does.
He called me snow princess. He pulled me into this dark alley…
He pushed me against the wall. His hands felt so big. Like they could do anything.
He was dying to kiss me…
Fucking liar. And fucking Lee Jordan.
She’s such a liar. A liar who fights, every single second of every single day and doesn’t even know it.
I scrub my hand across my face when I feel something stir inside my gut. Something warm and fucking wrong. Something that makes me think of her skin and soft hair.
Her tiny body.
Just then I hear a noise from upstairs, alerting me to the fact that I’m not alone within these walls. Reminding me that I need to get out of here.
Shaking my head, I turn away from the window and walk out of the room. Walk out of this godforsaken place.
I could take Greg’s advice because he’s right. It’s been three months since I had sex. Random hook-ups are not my style, though. I prefer to know the person and I prefer for them to know that it’s strictly physical and nothing else. I don’t have time for anything else. I fuck and that’s it. It’s biology.
But for some elusive reason, I don’t want to fuck a nameless woman.
I drive to my hotel, change into my gym clothes and hit the treadmill downstairs. I know even pills won’t do the trick.
This is my only option. Work out till exhaustion. Till I overcome this strange, fucking warmth inside my body. The kind I’ve never felt before. The kind I don’t want to feel.
Because I’m not like the man who killed my mother.
I’m not my father.