If her test results are good, there’s no reason why Dr. Allen would wait for her surgery. So instead of focusing on all the impossibles, I start preparing for what’s certainly coming. I arrange the superhero muffins that Hope left for us last night and a cup of coffee in front of Vienna.
“I’ll p-pick you up aft-ter lunch.”
Vienna nods and her fingers circle the rim of the cup. Leaning against the counter with a cup of coffee in hand, I watch her as she stares at a wall, lost in thoughts.
My brain reminds me once again that I’m responsible for her happiness. But I have no clue how to make her happy.
* * *
The day drags and it’s a struggle to focus on anything but Vienna. Finally, I show up at Steamy Beans and find her waiting for me outside. Ivy waves at me through the window, but her hello seems off. Vienna must have told her about the appointment.
At the hospital, I wait in the waiting area while the nurses take her for tests. It takes an hour before we’re out with an appointment for tomorrow to discuss the first test results with Dr. Allen, while the others might follow a few days later.
The entire evening passes uneventfully. There’s a cloud of doom around us as we go through our evening routine. Dinner passes in complete silence, and today there’s no special art over the carrot soup.
My heart finds some peace when I find Vienna in my bed instead of the guest room as I faintly expected. With her facing away from me, no words are shared, and I turn off the light. Lying on the bed, frustrated tension courses through my body.
How can I make this better for her?
* * *
The silence eventually becomes too much, and during the drive to the hospital the next day, I can’t hold back my groan. “You c-cannot avoid me for-rever.”
Her wide eyes meet mine, and the flash of guilt in them crushes me.
Fuck! Why didn’t I say something else?
Why do I have to make this painful time of hers about me?
“I mean…t-talk to me. D-don’t keep me out. P-please.”
I don’t know what she sees on my face, but she grabs my arm and rests her head on my shoulder. As we approach the hospital, she softly whispers, “Thank you so much for being with me.”
The light weight of her on my arm magically, slowly, dilutes the black clouds of despair. I feel much better, and hand in hand, we enter Dr. Allen’s office.
“Mrs. Teager, we have the results from some of your tests yesterday.” He fixes his glasses before looking at his screen.
But when he grabs the back of his neck, my stomach churns.
What the fuck happened now?
“How do you feel?” He turns toward my wife. “Are you tired too much?”
Vienna shrugs before giving a tiny nod.
“Mrs. Teager, you have anemia. The symptoms are normally fatigue, weakness, headaches, things that you already experience in this condition. The problem is, we cannot operate unless your red blood cells are back at a healthy count.”
He pinches his lips together all the while shaking his head, probably making a plan for transfusions and supplements. But the wheels are turning in my head.
“How long d-do you th-think we need to postpone the…s-surgery?”
Vienna shivers next to me at the last word, but Dr. Allen frowns. “It depends on how Mrs. Teager responds to the treatment, but it can take two weeks…maybe even four.”
“And w-what’s the plan?”
“We’ll start with supplements, and if needed, move to transfusions.”
“Can this be d-done at any oth-ther hospital?”