In Five Years: A Novel - Rebecca Serle Page 0,48

before. This is real. I’m here.”

His chest rises and falls like it’s taking physical effort to be upright. That I understand.

“It’s going to be more painful if you leave later,” I say. I feel my lip quiver again. I demand it to stop.

Aaron reaches out to me. He takes both my elbows in his palms. His chest is so close I can smell him.

“I promise,” he says.

We must walk back. I must call a car. We must say goodnight. I must come home and tell David. I must, at some point, fall asleep. But later I don’t remember. All I remember is his promise. I take it. I hold it in my heart like proof.

Chapter Twenty-Two

On Tuesday, October 4, I arrive at Mount Sinai on East One Hundredth Street an hour before the scheduled surgery. I still haven’t spoken to Bella, but I come to her pre-op room to find both her father and mother there. I don’t think they’ve been in the same room in over a decade.

The room is loud, even boisterous. Jill, her hair blown out and impeccably dressed in a Saint Laurent suit, chats with the nurses as if she’s preparing to host a luncheon, not for her daughter’s reproductive organs to be removed.

Frederick chats with Dr. Shaw. They both stand at the foot of Bella’s bed, arms crossed, gesturing amicably.

This isn’t happening.

“Hi,” I say. I knock on the side door that is obviously already open.

“Hey,” Bella says. “Look who made it.” She gestures to her father, who turns around and gives me a sideways wave.

“I see that,” I say. I put my bag down on a chair and go to Bella’s bedside. “How are you?”

“Fine,” she says, and I see it right there—the indignant stubbornness that has been avoiding me for the past week. Her hair is already in a cap, and she’s wearing a hospital gown. How long has she been here?

“What did Dr. Shaw say?”

Bella shrugs. “Ask him yourself.”

I take a few steps down. “Dr. Shaw,” I say. “Dannie.”

“Of course,” he says. “Notepad woman.”

“Right. So how is everything looking?”

Dr. Shaw gives me a small smile. “Okay,” he says. “I was just explaining to Bella and her folks here that surgery will take about eight hours.”

“I thought it was six,” I say. I’ve done extensive research. I’ve barely left Google. Filing statistics. Researching these procedures, recovery times, added benefits of taking out both ovaries instead of one.

“It could be,” he says. “It depends on what we find when we get in there. A full hysterectomy is usually six, but because we’re also removing the fallopian tubes we may need more time.”

“Are you performing an omentectomy today?” I ask.

Dr. Shaw looks at me with a mixture of respect and surprise. “We’re going to do a biopsy of the omentum for staging. But we will not be removing it today.”

“I read that a complete removal increases survival odds.”

To his credit, Dr. Shaw does not look away. He does not clear his throat and look to Jill or Bella. Instead, he says, “It’s really a case by case.”

My stomach turns. I look to Jill, who is up by Bella’s head, smoothing her cap-covered hair.

A memory. Bella. Age eleven. Crawling up into my bed from the trundle because she’d had a nightmare. It was snowing and I couldn’t find you.

“Where were you?”

“Alaska, maybe.”

“Why Alaska?”

“I don’t know.”

But I did. Her mother had been there for a month. Some kind of two-and-a-half-week cruise followed by a specialized spa.

“Well, I’m right here,” I said. “You’ll always be able to find me, even in snow.”

How dare Jill show up. How dare she claim ownership and offer comfort now. It’s too late. It has been too late for over twenty years. I know I’d hate Bella’s parents even more if they didn’t show today, but I still want them gone. They don’t get the place by her side, especially not now.

Just then Aaron walks through the door. He’s holding one of those carry trays full of Starbucks cups and starts handing them out.

“None for you,” Dr. Shaw says, pointing to Bella.

She laughs. “That’s the worst part about this. No coffee.”

Dr. Shaw smiles. “I’ll see you in there. You’re in great hands.”

“I know,” she says.

Frederick shakes Dr. Shaw’s hand. “Thank you for everything. Finky speaks very highly of you.”

“He taught me a lot of what I know. Excuse me.” He makes a move toward the door and stops when he reaches me. “Could I speak to you in the hall?”

“Of course.”

The room has descended