Molly - Sarah Monzon Page 0,30

restrictive and monitor the other patients. Mr. Mendall’s kidneys should return to normal function as well, thanks to you.” He studied me a moment. “These things happen, you know. We do all we can to prevent them, but nosocomial infections are an enemy we’re still battling in hospitals.”

One that claimed almost a hundred thousand lives a year in America.

One particular life four years ago.

Even scarred wounds could ache, and my heart throbbed at that moment.

Dr. Feinburg clapped me on the shoulder. “You did well, Dr. Reed. Go home. Get some sleep.”

The wash of adrenaline and its subsequent loss left me drained. I turned over the patients to the incoming physicians and walked to my car in a zombie-like state. Driving home occurred on autopilot, I realized, as I sat in my driveway having no recollection of pulling out of the hospital parking lot.

Time had a weird way of moving forward but standing still all at once. Of creating the sensation of a déjà vu moment when, in reality, nothing was the same.

I didn’t want to remember that day. Laura, yes, always. But never that day. I’d never felt as helpless as I did then, holding Laura’s hand. Eighteen months in medical school, but my mind had refused to come up with a diagnosis or a solution. Neither had her doctors. Not until it was too late.

I tilted my head back and blinked up at the ceiling of my car. Twin tears pooled in my eyes. I blinked again, and they trickled down my temples and into my hair. My eyes closed, and I brought an image of Laura to my mind.

We were in the halls of George Washington High. Even though she had a purple JanSport backpack hanging from her shoulders, she’d hugged her books to her chest. Something about the curve of her lips as she smiled at the girl beside her mesmerized me. It took a whole month to get her to go out with me, but after that we’d been inseparable. High school sweethearts who married right after graduation.

I focused on her image, recalling how the sunlight glinted off her russet hair. How her eyes softened when she saw me from across the room. Or how—

Tap, tap.

My heart knocked against my chest, and I lowered my head to look out the window. Molly’s oval-shaped face peered at me from the other side of the glass, her brow furrowed in concern. I looked down at my watch and realized she must have gotten back from dropping Chloe off at preschool. I’d been so lost in my memories that I hadn’t even heard her pull up.

“Are you okay?” she asked through the rolled-up window.

“Yeah.” Probably best not to explain the dreaming of a dead wife thing. I pulled the keys out of the ignition and turned to open the door then froze. My body was still covered in the scrubs I’d had on at the hospital. In my brain fog, I hadn’t taken the time to shower and change before heading home.

“Back up.”

Molly’s eyes widened at my gruff tone but took two giant steps back. I clicked open the garage, slid out of the car, and sprinted inside the space I used for storage and a laundry room. Molly didn’t move, but her eyes tracked me the entire time.

Who could blame her? My actions were odd when one didn’t have all the facts.

Fact #1. I had encountered a flesh-eating bacteria that could still be embedded in the fibers of my scrubs.

Fact #2. I hadn’t showered or changed.

Fact #3. I needed to strip and scrub from head to toe in scalding hot water before anyone got too close to me.

Fact #4. I was about to embarrass myself in front of a woman who confused me with the number of times she wormed her way into my thoughts in a single day.

Molly took a step forward and my arm shot out in front of me, motioning for her to stay where she was. “I’m going to lower the garage door, but I need you to count to two hundred before you come inside the house.”

“Why two hundred?”

“Because that should give me enough time.”

“Enough time to what?”

Was there any way to say it that wouldn’t embarrass both of us? “Enough time to get out of these infected scrubs and get them in the laundry then…” My eyebrows pushed their way to my hairline.

1 – 1 = 0

Molly’s mouth formed the answer as she did the math. Her cheeks flushed, and I ignored