Finally he let go, then wiped his eyes. “How did you know about the baby she was going to have?”
“I heard a few nurses whispering about it. It’s all right—”
“It’s more than that. Thank you. Thank you so much.” He took my hands and turned back to look into her room. “I’m so scared. I’m not sure what to do. She’s suffering so much, and I can’t do anything but sit here and watch. She collapsed this morning, she’s dying, and her doctors are saying they can’t operate. I should go, right? I should try for other opinions, right?”
I wished it was a rhetorical question, but he was really asking for an answer. “Toby, I’m not a doctor, I don’t know.”
“But if it was your child—”
I sighed. “I’m so sorry, Toby, I wish I could help you. I really don’t know what to say. I can’t answer that because I don’t have children. I can’t understand the position or pain you are in. All I can do is tell you to trust yourself. Do what you think is right for Molly. That’s all you can do, isn’t it?”
He was silent, and it was almost as painful as him speaking.
“Go in, she's calling for you.” I waved back to the small girl inside.
“Thank you again,” he whispered, his hand on the door.
“Of course.”
I stayed there for a little while longer before walking back to my station. If I felt this bad, I wondered how Eli felt. I couldn’t imagine having that much pressure on his shoulders, and that was just one of his patients. How did he do it? How did he deal with it all? When he was home, it was like the hospital him was switched off. He never went into detail about anything. He would always just say 'saved one'…but what about the people he couldn’t save?
Does he not tell me because he doesn’t think I can understand? I knew he couldn’t break doctor-patient confidentiality, and I didn’t want him to—I just wanted to know how he was doing.
“Gwen!” Logan came up to me, dressed in dark jeans and a pretty nice leather jacket.
I had noticed that after he had declared he wasn’t going to be a doctor, his fashion was changing slightly. I guessed he was just finally being who he really was. He’d even gotten his ear pierced.
“Hey, aren’t you going on tour?” I asked when he reached me.
He frowned. “Can’t wait to get me out of the way, can you?”
“That’s not what I meant.” I laughed.
“I know. I leave tomorrow. Just came to have lunch with my mother and ask you a small favor.”
“What?”
He nodded behind me to the mural. “I won’t be back for the unveiling, and it’s been killing me wanting to see what you’re doing back there. I swear some people have already peeked in.”
“Everyone is so impatient. You can’t see the full effect of it until you back up some, anyway—”
“Please, Gwen.”
“You're just going to use it to torture your mother’s curiosity, aren’t you?”
He grinned. “How do you know me so well?”
Shaking my head, I lifted the curtain, allowing him to come inside.
He looked down at the paint all spread across the ground and the once white shirt I wore while painting lying next to it before glancing up. He took a step back and bent his head as best as he could, looking up at the whole mural. “Is that the—”
“Yep.” I didn’t want him to say it out loud.
“They are going to love this.” He dropped his head and looked back to me. “I love it.”
“Thank you. I’m always a little nervous, but if I know you really like it, I can go forward with no fear.” At the vibr
ation, I pulled my phone out of my pocket.