Your Perfect Year(30)

“Whatever. I’m not interested.” As if to give more weight to his words, he slapped the flat of his hand down on the table and moved to rise from his chair.

Sarasvati leaned back and looked at him for a moment, shaking her head. “Tell me,” she said, “what are you so scared of?”

“Scared?” He laughed and sat back down. “I’m not scared!”





14

Hannah

Two months before:

Monday, October 30, 7:53 p.m.

“Hello!” Simon was sitting up in a hospital bed by the window. When they entered the room, he raised a hand in greeting and gave them a weak smile. He still looked very pale and had tubes running from his left arm to two transparent plastic pouches that hung from an IV pole by his bed. Hannah took one look at her poor boyfriend and her knees went weak, her heart clenched painfully, and her stomach turned queasy.

“Darling!” She drew up a visitor’s chair and grasped Simon’s hand. “What have you been up to?”

His smile turned roguish. “I could ask you the same thing—what have you been up to? With me?”

“I’m so, so sorry,” Hannah said, glancing at Lisa as she said it again. “If I’d had any idea—”

“Don’t worry,” he interrupted. “I survived.” He looked over at the doctor. “Dr. Fuchs says I suffered some kind of collapse, but nothing serious.”

“That’s right,” the doctor confirmed. “But you don’t want to be too casual about it,” he added sternly. “You overexerted yourself, and when you have a lingering infection, that can be quite risky.” He paused to allow his words to have the desired effect. They certainly affected Hannah, who sank visibly into her chair. Lisa, who was still standing by the door, also looked guilty, even though she had played no part in the situation.

Of them all, Simon, lying in his bed, seemed the most cheerful. Was Hannah mistaken or could she see a clear “I told you so!” in his expression?

“People often underestimate the impact a common cold can have on them—even young, healthy people,” Dr. Fuchs continued. “In the very worst cases, cold viruses can attack other organs, which can lead, for example, to myocarditis. And in certain circumstances, that can be fatal.” All three gasped.

“Oh, please don’t tempt fate!” Hannah said reproachfully, as soon as she’d composed herself.

“Nothing could be further from my mind,” the doctor replied a little complacently. “I’m not tempting fate; I’m just telling you what we doctors see here, day in, day out.”

Simon wheezed. “Day in, day out?”

“Well, maybe not so often,” Dr. Fuchs conceded and cleared his throat. “But often enough to prescribe complete rest for you for the next few days.” He picked up Simon’s chart and looked at the contents with the frown of a man studying the figures of a stock-market crash. “Well, Simon, your condition is stable now. As soon as the infusions are complete, one of the nurses will remove the drip and you can sleep in peace. If everything looks okay, we’ll discharge you tomorrow morning.” He leafed through the chart again. “Your blood pressure’s very low, but I’m not surprised. Your blood test did show a couple of abnormalities. I’d have it checked again by your family doctor.”

“Abnormalities?” Simon said.

The doctor snapped the file shut and looked him in the eye. “First, your inflammation levels are high, which is why we’re giving you an antibiotic along with the saline solution.” He tapped one of the plastic pouches on the IV pole. “Please continue to take the medication orally for the next six days. You’ll be given a prescription when you’re released.”

Simon nodded obediently.

“There are also signs of slight anemia, which I believe is caused by the infection.”

“Infection-related anemia?” Lisa asked.

“A consequence of the cold, which makes me think it might actually be influenza. Fortunately, there are no signs of pneumonia.”

“Ah,” Hannah said, feeling even worse than she had before. So it was flu now—and she’d forced Simon into a clown costume!

Oh well, at least it wasn’t pneumonia. That was positive, surely.

“It should get better on its own. Flu’s rarely a problem at your age,” Dr. Fuchs said. “But I do recommend that you present yourself at your family doctor’s office in a few weeks, once you’re feeling better. You should be given another blood test and have all the indicators checked.”

As the doctor went on about what Simon should and shouldn’t do, Hannah was irritated by his pompous, self-important way of speaking. Present yourself at your family doctor’s office. Honestly! “Hello, may I introduce myself? My name is Simon Klamm.” Really, the good doctor looked so young but acted so stuffy!

“ . . . but the most important thing is complete rest over the next few days,” the white-clad demigod said, ending his monologue.

“In that case, I’d rather stay here in the hospital,” Simon said.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Well, if I need rest, I’d rather not go home.” He grasped Hannah’s hand surreptitiously. “I’ve no chance of recovering there, with my own personal slave driver forcing me into strenuous activity. I feel safer here in the hospital. A kind of refuge, you know?”