Saving Meghan(44)

For Zach, it was another year at another conference, attending lectures, dinners, and breakout sessions as he endured the discomfort of a stiff back from his sagging hotel mattress. And, as usual, he’d be leaving with no new medical breakthroughs or hints of a cure. In essence, it had been another year with nothing much gained but the renewed promise of a better tomorrow. But it was time away from Boston, from home, from memories he could not, would not forget. And oddly enough, whenever Zach left the Boston area, the dream left with him. Zach kept his phone in his hotel room so he would not be distracted during the lectures, but when he checked his voice mail for the first time that day, he found a different sort of nightmare waiting for him: an extremely irate message from Becky that had made him shake with anger at Nash.

He had called Nash, of course, but the call was sent directly to voice mail, probably intentionally. If he were in her shoes, he would have done the same. Still, he had left a rather angry message that implored her to call him immediately. He did not expect his phone to ring anytime soon. He could hardly fathom the number of lines Nash had crossed, but the deed was done, the bomb had gone off, and what was left for Zach were the pieces of a shattered family he’d have to try to put back together.

Zach checked out of his hotel a day early and caught a late-night flight back to Boston, incurring a rather hefty fee for the last-minute change. He instructed his office manager to reach out to the Gerards and set up a meeting at White first thing in the morning. He knew he was being a bit of a coward not addressing the family right away, but figured everyone would be better off after a night’s sleep, assuming anyone would get a wink.

Zach could hardly imagine Becky Gerard’s anguish, though he knew the source of her pain would be staring right back at him anytime he peered into a mirror. As anticipated, Zach had a hard time falling asleep that night, but when he finally did, he dreamed he was sitting next to his boy, on a park bench, under a bright blue sky, eating ice cream, waiting for his heart to get ripped out.



* * *



BECKY AND Carl sat across from Zach in a room a few doors down from his cluttered office. Outside, the early-morning sun sprinkled prisms of light across the windows of the tall buildings comprised in the White Memorial medical complex. Off to the north was the Mendon Building, home to the Behavioral Health Unit.

Zach saw Becky glancing out the window repeatedly. He got the feeling she knew exactly where her daughter was being held. After this meeting, Zach planned to go to Mendon to try to see Meghan and get an update on her condition, but first he had to face the parents.

“It’s your fault,” Becky said, her voice packing a lot less punch than Zach had expected. Exhaustion may have taken its toll, zapping Becky’s fight.

“I understand you’re angry,” Zach said, “but I promise you I’m going to do everything I can to help.”

Becky had on a black sweater over a paisley-patterned blouse and dark jeans that showed off her slender physique. Carl was equally put together, dressed in a white oxford shirt and dark jeans as well, the glint of a gold Rolex peeking out from beneath a cuffed sleeve. Zach suspected people were often jealous of them, the perfect couple who seemed to have it all, but if they knew the daunting situation they faced, he doubted any of those envious souls would trade places with the Gerards.

Carl Gerard sent Zach a look of pure contempt. Zach’s one and only fight had been on a school playground at the end of sixth grade against a boy he’d had no business battling, but who’d needed a punch in the nose to put an end to his bullying. It looked to Zach like Carl was ready to make it fight number two.

Becky Gerard was seated next to her husband, but Zach observed no real connection between them. They did not make eye contact, or hold hands, or do any of the little things that he and Stacy might have done before everything fell to pieces. Whatever had come between husband and wife was pronounced enough to feel like a fourth person in the room.

“What has Nash said?” Becky asked. “How long are they going to hold Meghan here? When can we bring her home? When can we see her? Talk to her?”

Zach looked down at his hands. He did not have any answers and said as much.

“Well, when are you going to know?” Carl asked, leaning forward, encroaching on Zach’s personal space the way that playground bully had done so many years ago.

“I’ve left messages for Dr. Nash, and I have calls in to Knox Singer. I’m sure they’ll meet me later today.”

“And what are we supposed to do in the meantime?” Becky said, tossing up her hands in distress. Her body sagged forward as tears sprang to her eyes.

To Zach’s utter surprise, Carl made no gesture to comfort his wife.

“This is a process,” Zach said. “Not one I’m very familiar with, to be honest, but it’s happened in mito cases before. This disease, unfortunately, has unusual and inconsistent symptoms. Parents, like yourselves, often become strong advocates for their children, pushing for consults with specialists and sophisticated tests. Some doctors misinterpret these efforts as a bid for attention and label the condition Munchausen syndrome by proxy.”

“Where have you heard that term before, Becky, huh?” Carl asked.

“We both know that answer,” Becky replied coolly.

Zach knew not to tread on the obvious marital strife as he knew to avoid a downed power line. “From what I understand of this situation—and, granted, I haven’t been able to do a deep dive here—it’s a temporary custody ruling, so we have time to plan our next moves.”