A Curve in the Road(61)

“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.