I’m only half listening to Dr. Tremblay, because I can’t get past the anger I still feel toward Alan, and now the fog is rolling into my brain again. I find it difficult to concentrate. Some of what the doctor says goes in one ear and out the other, but it doesn’t matter because I’ve already researched all the recommended medications and side effects and statistics about accidents. I know everything inside out, and I already know which drugs I want to try first.

We settle on what my treatment will be, and I leave his office, knowing I won’t be able to return to the OR anytime soon. As I ride the elevator down, I can’t help but think of the terrifying split second when Alan’s car clipped the back end of mine on the highway and sent me tumbling down the embankment, totaling my SUV, nearly killing me and our dog, and possibly causing this irreversible neurological condition.

I’m so angry with him I want to hit something. There’s a pounding in my ears, and I fear I’m going to collapse again because of this intense anger I feel. But I don’t collapse. The rage flows through me, my muscles remain strong, and the elevator doors slide open. I step off without incident.

As I call a cab to take me home, I realize it was sheer force of will that kept me on my feet just now, because I don’t want to give Alan the power to hurt me anymore. I want to live, and live happily, and in order to do that, I need to do my best to stop fixating on his betrayal and the anger I feel. I need to focus on how I’m going to manage this condition and move on with positivity and determination, not vitriol, which will only bury me in ugly emotional muck. That won’t help me at all.

I know this because I’m still stuck in that muck, and I want to be free of it.

CHAPTER THIRTY

A few weeks later, I come home after work to find Zack on the sofa watching television. Winston greets me at the door, tail wagging, and I bend to give him a pat. “Hey there. How are you doing?”

He licks the back of my hand and follows me eagerly into the kitchen, where I drop my keys into the bowl on the counter.

“How was your day?” I ask Zack.

“Okay, I guess.”

“Just okay?” After seventeen years, I can read my son’s moods like a book, and it’s obvious that something’s on his mind. I take a seat beside him on the sofa. “What’s up?”

Winston jumps up between us, and Zack rubs behind his ears. “Jeremy just got into the premed program at Western.”

My eyebrows lift. “Wow, good for him. That’s a tough program to get into.”

Zack stares at the television. “Yeah, he’s pretty pumped.”

I watch my son for a moment, and I know exactly what he’s feeling because I’m feeling it too. I know him too well, and his pain is my pain. His joy is my joy.

“What about you?” I ask, picking up the remote control and muting the TV. “Are you not pumped about going to Dal?”

We had this conversation at Christmas, and I knew then that Zack would feel like he was missing out if he had to stay at home because of me.

He merely shrugs. “It’ll be fine.”

“Really? I don’t think so. It’s only five blocks away.” I reach out and squeeze his shoulder. “Listen, you know I’ll be okay if you go away to school. I’ll miss you of course, but I have Winston to keep me company.” I stroke the fur on Winston’s back. “And it’s not like you and I would never talk to each other. We could text every day. Seriously, Zack, if you want to go away, I’m all for it. It’s not too late to apply. I don’t know when the deadlines are for scholarships, but—”

“I already applied,” he tells me, meeting my gaze with a look of unease, “just to see what would happen.”

My head draws back slightly. “Oh, you did. And . . . ?”

“And . . .” He hesitates, then finally spills the beans. “I got accepted to Western and Queens. Full scholarships at both.”

A swell of pride washes over me. “You’re joking! How could you not tell me this? That’s amazing! I’m so proud of you.”

He exhales heavily. “Thanks, but I don’t want to go, Mom. Especially with what’s been going on with your health lately. And I know how much you miss Dad.”

I do miss Alan—the husband I once knew. But that man doesn’t exist anymore.

I quickly shake my head at Zack. “Sweetheart, if you want to go to Western or Queens, that’s what I want too. Honestly, I’d be incredibly proud of you, and so would Gram. I really think you should go. It’s what you’ve always wanted.”

He stares at me for a moment, then bows his head. His voice shakes when he speaks. “You’ve been through so much, Mom. I can’t just leave you.”

I slide closer and pull him into my arms. “You won’t be leaving me. Like I said, we’ll text every day, and you can come home for summers and Thanksgiving and Christmas. I’ll be fine. I’ve got big plans of my own, you know.”

He draws back. “You do?”

“Of course.” I scramble to come up with something, because I can’t let him believe that I’m just going to lie down and die when he goes off to college.

Which I have no intention of doing. That’s not going to happen. I don’t know what exactly is going to happen, but I’ve got plenty of time to figure it out.

“Well . . .” I sit back and rest my arm along the back of the sofa. “The first thing I’m going to do is accept that I’m never going to hold a scalpel again. I can’t keep waiting around for that day to come.”

Zack hangs his head. “Mom, please don’t give up . . .”

“I’m not giving up. I’m just being realistic. All these medications are working well, but they come with side effects, and I’m not as steady as I need to be.” I hold up my hand to show him. “Sometimes I get the shakes.”

He rests his head on the back of the sofa. “So what are you going to do?”

“I don’t know. I’m still a doctor. I have practical knowledge, and you’d be surprised how many job opportunities are out there. I just need to figure out what direction I want to go in now. I loved being a GP before I became a surgeon. I could go back to that, or I could do another residency and learn a new specialty, something where I’m not holding a scalpel. Or I could move into research. It’s kind of exciting, actually, to think about a fresh start with something totally new.”

A whole new life. Something to set my sights on.

Zack smiles at me. “You’re smart, Mom. You can be anything you want to be.”

“Except a surgeon,” I say with a chuckle, as an unexpected bubble of joy rises up inside me. “And thank you for the vote of confidence. I raised you well.”

“You and Dad both.”

I feel the smile drain from my face because of how Zack idolizes his father, while I’m finding it harder and harder to cherish Alan’s memory in any way, shape, or form.

Zack reaches for the remote control to unmute the television. As he sits forward, I notice the scar on his elbow from the skateboard accident he had when he was fourteen, and it reminds me of Alan.

He was delivering a guest lecture at the medical school when Zack fell off the skateboard and hit his head, and in a state of pure panic as a mother, I called and asked the organizers to interrupt the class and send Alan to the hospital, because I remembered what had happened on the day Alan’s mother died. Lester hadn’t pulled him out of class, and he never got to say goodbye to her.

Zack’s injuries were serious. There was swelling in his brain. I couldn’t take any chances.

When Alan arrived, he was very distraught and asked me all sorts of questions about what had happened. He demanded to see the x-rays, discussed the prognosis with the neurologist, and stayed in the ICU with me until Zack finally turned a corner.

But then Alan said he couldn’t do it anymore.

“Do what?” I asked.

“I can’t see him like this. I can’t bear it.”

Alan walked out of the hospital, leaving me standing there, dumbstruck, in front of the nurses’ station, watching him storm off without looking back. It was so unlike him.

Thankfully, a few hours later, he returned. Not that I ever doubted he would. I knew he just needed some time alone.

When he walked into the ICU, he went straight to Zack’s bedside. They had a brief conversation, and then Alan turned to me and pulled me into his arms.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered in my ear. “I shouldn’t have walked out on you like that.”

I was so happy that he had come back to me. “It’s okay. I understand.”

We held each other, and I felt no resentment toward Alan for that brief spell of weakness. I knew it was because he loved us more than life itself. There was never any doubt about that. Not at the time.

So maybe what I need to do now is find a way to look at my son and acknowledge the fact that my marriage wasn’t a total waste. Alan gave me Zack and was a loving father to him—the polar opposite of his own.

Will that be enough to make up for what he did? Will I ever be able to answer that question in the affirmative?

Zack’s phone rings, and he checks the call display. “It’s Jeremy,” he says. “Mind if I take this?”

“Go ahead. I need to get supper started anyway.”

Winston follows me to the kitchen, where I check to see what’s in the freezer. I hear Zack laughing on the phone. His voice is animated because he’s excited to share the news that he’ll be going to Queens or Western.

Suddenly I imagine living here in this big house without him. It’s going to be very quiet. I take a moment to let that sink in and remind myself that it’s still many months away.

February 14 rolls around, and though I would prefer not to wallow in misery over the fact that it’s my first Valentine’s Day without Alan, I can’t help but feel the weight of his absence as I remember how he used to bring me flowers and take me out for dinner at a nice restaurant. Often, he gave me jewelry. Every woman’s dream, right?