Lucian Divine(57)

“Yes,” I said pointedly.

“He’s doing really well. They’ve done an MRI and it was clear, so they’re running more blood tests now. We’re just waiting for the results.”

“Can I go see him? Can you wheel me to him?”

“Sure. He’s a little loopy, just so you know. He’s on a high dosage of anti-seizure and pain medication.”

I just shrugged, so she left the room and returned a moment later with a wheelchair. She wheeled me to the last room at the end of the hall. There he was, looking so mortal with an IV, a hospital gown, and a loopy grin.

“Heya, gorgeous,” he slurred.

I was wearing hospital-issued underwear, a giant Maxi pad, and a backless hospital gown, but I didn’t care. I crawled into his bed, right into the crook of his arm where I’ve always existed.

“Ah, come here,” he said, kissing my forehead and pulling me closer.

Pepto Nurse tried to object, but Lucian put his finger to his mouth and nodded. She left the room without a word. It was just the two of us.

“I’m so sorry, Evey.” His voice was soothing.

“I know, me too. I don’t think we can have a baby.” I tried not to sob. “I don’t even care anymore, and I don’t want to go through that again. We need to find out what’s happening to you. What if something is seriously wrong?” I whispered, “Your wings are gone.”

“Things are changing. Something is wrong. And also you deserve a baby.”

“Stop it. What are you not telling me? I’m torn up about this, all of it, but mostly about what’s happening to you. Tell me what’s going on.”

For a moment, I thought that Lucian was finally going explain to me the meaning of life or why he and I were in that situation. He was staring into my eyes with so much warmth and love in his expression, but then he just smiled and said, “Let’s cuddle. These drugs are good.”

“Lucian, tell me anything, something. I need to know.” I started to sit up to examine him.

He pulled me back down and shook his head. Lifting the blanket back to reveal his feet, he gestured toward the end of the bed and said, “See?”

Lucian had had the sexiest man feet I’d ever seen, but they had become pale, almost bluish. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know.”

A moment later, a doctor came in holding paperwork. It was the same guy who had been treating me. “Oh, hello. I see you found your husband.”

“Yes, no thanks to you,” I replied, looking away.

Lucian squeezed me tighter.

“Yes, I’m sorry about that,” the doctor said. “We were going over the results of his blood work. There really is no concrete explanation for your seizure. Your levels look fine—”

“Show him your feet, Lucian.”

The doctor quirked an eyebrow, but he checked Lucian’s feet. “Hmm. I’ve never seen anything like this. Is it painful?”

“Not at the moment,” Lucian responded.

“We’ll keep you overnight for more observation, and I’ll prescribe you a low-dose seizure medication until we can figure out what’s going on.”

We both nodded.

After the doctor left, Lucian and I began to doze off.

Just before I fell asleep, Lucian said, “Evelyn, we do have to figure things out.”

“Tomorrow,” I told him. Now we were both playing the denial game.





“IT’S TOMORROW, EVEY,” I said, sitting next to the hospital bed she was sleeping in. “Wake up, talk to me.”

She groaned and rolled over. “I don’t want to talk.”

I had gotten dressed and gathered our things. We were being discharged at the same time. Evey’s mom came into the room before Evey and I could start the conversation I knew we needed to have.

I stood up. “Hello, Jane.”

A second later, Jane was crying in my arms. “I’m so sorry for both of you. Why didn’t you call me yesterday?”

The truth was that we weren’t thinking about anything but ourselves. Evey and I hadn’t thought to call her parents or Brooklyn. We’d just needed to be alone. We still needed time to figure everything out.

An image ran through my mind of Evey playing with her dolls in her bedroom in Oakland. She was about six, and she would feed and change and care for her dolls as though they were real babies.

Once when she was even younger, she asked Mrs. Obernickle, her preschool teacher, why she didn’t have a family. Mrs. Obernickle responded with something harsh like, “Having children isn’t like having dollies, Evelyn, don’t be silly. They require much more work.”

I’d thought it was such a harsh response, and Evey’s face scrunched up with sadness. She became disappointed about life and her future in an instant. And because I had no self-control with Evey, I refused to let her childhood heart be broken by a cynical and grumpy old woman.

That day I had moved into Mrs. Obernickle’s tubby body, with her stinky perfume, and knelt next to Evey and said, “But you will be a wonderful mother. Look at all the practice you’re getting now with your dollies. You have nothing to worry about. Babies and children are a joy and a blessing.”

She had smiled and hugged me—or hugged Mrs. Obernickle rather. Evey had always wanted to be a mother.