In Five Years: A Novel - Rebecca Serle Page 0,51

I reach up and embrace him.

“They said it’s going well,” I said, although that’s not entirely the truth. They said it’s going. “I don’t think they need to get into her stomach.”

David’s eyebrows knit. “Good,” he says. “That’s good, right? How are you?”

“Hanging in.”

“Have you eaten?”

I shake my head.

David produces a paper bag with a Sarge’s logo, my bagel with whitefish salad.

“This is my winner’s breakfast,” I say sadly.

“She’s got this, Dannie.”

“I should head back up,” I say. “Shouldn’t you be at the office?”

“I should be here,” he says.

He puts a hand on my back, and we go upstairs. When we get to the waiting room, Jill and Frederick are still on their cell phones. A pile of Scarpetta’s takeout sits upright in a chair next to them. I don’t even know how they got them to deliver this early—I don’t even think they’re open for lunch.

I brought my computer and I take it out now. The one good thing about the hospital: free and strong Wi-Fi.

Bella has told very few people. Morgan and Ariel, who I email now, and the gallery girls, for logistical reasons. I update them, too. I imagine these tiny, waiflike women contending with their beautiful boss having cancer. Does thirty-three seem ancient to them? They haven’t even crossed twenty-five.

I work for two hours. Answer emails, punt calls, and research. My brain is a haze of focus and paranoia and fear and noise. At some point, David forces the sandwich on me. I’m surprised by my appetite. I finish it. David leaves, promising to come back later. I tell him I’ll meet him at home. Jill steps out and comes back. Frederick goes in search of a charger. Aaron sits—sometimes reading, sometimes doing nothing but staring at the clock, at the big board where they list where patients are. Patient 487B, still in surgery.

It’s creeping toward late afternoon when I see Dr. Shaw walking through the double doors. My heart leaps up into my ears. I hear the pounding, like gongs.

I stand up, but I do not run across the room to him. It’s strange the social normalcies we hold strong to, even in the midst of extraordinary circumstances. The rules we are unwilling to break.

Dr. Shaw looks tired, far older than his age, which I’d put around forty.

“Everything went well,” he says. I feel relief course through my body right along with my blood. “She’s out and recovering. We were able to get all the tumor and any cancer cells to the best of our ability.”

“Thank god,” Jill says.

“She has a long road ahead of her, but today went well.”

“Can we see her?” I ask.

“She’s been through a lot. One visitor for now. Someone from my team will come over to take you back and answer any further questions.”

“Thank you,” I say. I shake his hand. So do Frederick and Jill. Aaron is still sitting. When I look back at him, I see that he is crying. He holds the back of his hand against his face, swallowing his sobs.

“Hey,” I say. “You should go.”

Jill looks at me but doesn’t say anything. I know Bella’s parents. I know being with her in the recovery room, unchaperoned, scares them. They don’t want to make decisions about her care, not really. And so I will. I always have.

“No,” he says. He shuffles his hands in front of his face, diverting attention. “You should go.”

“She’ll want to see you,” I tell him.

I imagine Bella waking up in a bed. In pain, confused. Whose face does she want hovering above hers? Whose hand does she want to hold? Somehow, I know that it’s his.

A nurse comes back. She wears bright pink scrubs and has a stuffed koala clinging to the pocket of her shirt. “Are you the family of Bella Gold?”

I nod. “This is her husband,” I lie. I’m not sure what the rule is for boyfriends. “He’d like to go back.”

“I’ll take you,” she says.

I watch them disappear down the hallway. It’s not until they’re gone, and Jill and Frederick are cornering me, asking questions, demanding we get the nurse back, that I feel happy for Bella for the first time. This is the thing she’s wanted forever. This, right here. This is love.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Bella is supposed to spend seven days in the hospital, but because of her age and general health she’s released after five, and on Saturday morning I meet her at her apartment. Jill has gone back to Philadelphia for the weekend to “take care