Henry Franks(26)

“I’m not the Medical Examiner,” his father said, pushing a gurney over to Henry. “Here, hop on.”

“Excuse me?”

“Just a gurney. The equipment in a morgue is slightly different than most since the subject can’t exactly get up on the table by themselves.”

“‘Subject,’ lovely,” Henry said as he sat on the bare metal. “Cold, too.”

“Next time I’ll bring a sheet for you.”

“There’s gonna be a next time?”

“I’d like to take a look every year or so, make sure everything’s all right, even though you say you feel fine.”

His father pushed open the doors and wheeled Henry down the hall. The room they entered was dark, and the lights started to flicker to life automatically as the doors opened.

“That’s helpful,” Henry said as the fluorescent glow finally brightened.

“Ready?” his father asked.

He was about to answer when the door swung back open.

“William?” an older man asked, poking his head into the room. “What are you doing here?”

“Morning, Dr. Sanderson,” his father said, after a moment of silence that seemed to last far too long. “My son, Henry, has a school project and I was just showing him around to give him a feel for the hospital. I hope that’s not a problem?”

“That’s fine,” Dr. Sanderson said, waving at Henry. “Your father’s a great asset to the team here. Wouldn’t know what to do without him.”

“Thank you, sir,” his father replied.

“Well, I’ll leave you to your tour. It’s not as gruesome as you’d think from what you see on television, Henry.”

Dr. Sanderson turned to leave, his hand on the knob, then looked back over his shoulder. “Make sure I’m set up early Monday morning, William. I have a presentation for the task force on the serial before noon. It’ll be doctors only, so you’ll need to make yourself scarce.”

“Yes, sir.”

The doors swung shut behind him as he left and his shoes echoed down the hall long after he was gone.

Henry stared at the floor and ran his fingers through his hair, pulling it down over his face. “I thought—” he said, but he couldn’t finish the sentence.

“Henry,” his father said. “I can explain.” He took a long time to walk around the gurney to sit next to his son.

“I thought you were a doctor,” Henry said, still not looking at him.

“I am. Or I guess, I was. It’s a long story. After your mother died … ” He stood up and the gurney rolled a couple feet until it bumped into the wall.

Henry braced himself and watched his father pace the room.

“There was an accident,” he said. “She was gone; you were … well, you were sleeping.”

“I know.”

“You remember?”

“No, but you’ve told me that part before.”

His father shook his head, “Yes, I suppose I have. I try to forget some things.”

“I try to remember,” Henry said, but his father had paced to the far end of the room and didn’t seem to hear.

“I chose to stay home and take care of you, Henry. I needed to, for me. Can you understand that?” His father came up to him and took his hand. “I need you to understand. Everything I did was for you. And for her. Always for her.”

Henry looked at his hand, unable even to feel his father’s touch, and pulled away. Too many questions tumbled end over end in his mind, and it was suddenly far too difficult to breathe. He blinked but his father was still there, towering over him, when he opened his eyes.

What did you do? Henry tried to withdraw even farther from the stranger standing in front of him.

“Henry?”

“What does that mean? ‘Everything you did’?”

His father walked back to the far wall, facing the tiling. He straightened his shoulders and turned back around. “I did what I had to do, to save you. To save both of you. Do you understand that?”

Henry nodded, unable to find the strength to say no, and went back to staring at the floor. The cement was slightly concave, leading to drainage pipes. He closed his eyes, trying not to see imaginary traces of blood swirling away down the drain. Somewhere, a far distance away, his father continued talking, but he wasn’t sure he still understood the language. It sounded like English but the words were meaningless.

“I stopped practicing, and then you woke up and were well enough to go back to school. I needed a job.” He shrugged, then looked away. “And here we are.”

“Here we are,” Henry repeated after the silence began to stretch once more. Even so, the words were limp and lifeless. He counted to ten, holding his breath the entire time. “Do they know you’re a doctor?” he asked.

“No.” His father walked back to him, a smile plastered to his face. “It’s better this way.”

“This is better?”

His father paced back across the room. “No questions. No chitchat with co-workers. I keep to myself and take care of you. To me, that’s better.”

The silence stretched out, with his father just standing there, staring at him.

“Your mother would be very proud of you, Henry.”