Chương 4
Still, he thanked the doctor.
Maya’s condition worsened before dawn. Her blood pressure dropped. The antibiotics had begun, but the obstetric team decided she needed surgery to clean the infected wound and control the bleeding.
A nurse handed David a consent form because Maya’s hands shook too hard to hold the pen.
“She has to sign for herself,” the nurse said gently. “You can steady the paper.”
David held the bottom edge.
Maya stared at the signature line.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
He thought he had misheard.
“For what?”
“For making this worse.”
“You didn’t.”
“I waited.”
“You were sick.”
“I believed her.”
“So did I.”
Maya looked up at him.
The space between them filled with equipment beeps, distant voices, and the wheels of a cart passing the doorway.
David had expected forgiveness to come automatically because he had returned, caught her, called for help, canceled the cards. Those actions felt enormous inside his body. In the room, they were simply what should have happened.
“I left you with someone you told me you didn’t trust,” he said.
“You had orders.”
“I also had choices before I left. I could have called your sister. I could have asked for more leave. I could have checked your face instead of accepting my mother’s texts.”
“My sister lives six hours away.”
“I know.”
“She has three kids.”
“I know.”
“You couldn’t have predicted this.”
“No.” David kept the paper steady. “But I predicted you would be uncomfortable and decided that was acceptable.”
Maya looked down again.
Her signature came out crooked.
As the staff prepared to move her, she caught his sleeve.
“Don’t let your mother near Liam.”
“She won’t get near either of you.”
The promise left his mouth before he considered what it would require.
Maya’s grip tightened. “You always say that when you’re angry.”
“What?”
“Things like they’re already decided.”
The transport team waited politely.
David forced himself to breathe.
“You’re right.”
She watched him, pale and feverish, perhaps expecting another promise.
“I’ll find out what I have to do,” he said. “Then I’ll do it.”
That answer seemed to frighten her less.
He stayed beside Liam while Maya was in surgery. The baby lay under a warming device wearing only a diaper, a sensor wrapped around one foot. His fists opened and closed in sleep.
David sat in a vinyl chair with his elbows on his knees. He had not removed his military uniform. Salt from the sidewalks had dried white along the bottom of his coat.
A nurse brought him a bottle and showed him how to support Liam’s head.
“I know how,” David said.
The nurse paused.
He looked at the bottle in his hand.
“No,” he corrected. “I watched someone do it twice.”
She adjusted his grip without comment.
Liam drank slowly. Each swallow made a small clicking sound. Halfway through, David noticed the baby’s fingers curled around the edge of his uniform.
He had imagined their first quiet moment differently. He had pictured sitting in the apartment after everyone was asleep, telling his son stories Liam could not understand. He had planned to complain about the New York rent, his commander’s handwriting, the terrible coffee in Germany.
Instead he counted ounces beneath hospital light.
When the bottle was empty, Liam did not cry. He simply rested against David’s chest, too tired to ask for more.
David lowered his face to the baby’s hair.
“I came back,” he whispered.
The sentence sounded like a defense.
He did not say it again.
Maya’s surgery lasted nearly two hours. The surgeon said the infection had spread through the incision but had not caused the worst complications they had feared. She would need several days of intravenous antibiotics and careful monitoring.
Several days sounded merciful.
Then a hospital social worker introduced herself.
Her name was Nina Patel. She spoke quietly and held a tablet against her chest. David disliked her before she asked the first question, then disliked himself for it.
“Because Liam arrived cold and underfed, we’re required to make a report concerning his home environment.”
“My mother created that environment.”
“I understand that is your account.”
“It’s on video.”
“That will be important. We still need to assess where Liam can safely go when he’s discharged.”
“With me.”
“Where will you stay?”
“Our apartment.”
“Does your mother have keys?”
David thought of the spare set in Evelyn’s purse.
“Yes.”
“Can the locks be changed before discharge?”
“Yes.”
“Is there heat?”
He hesitated.
The radiator had been weak before Germany. He had filed a maintenance request and then forgotten to follow up. The apartment had not been freezing when he left, but it had been too cold.
“I’ll call the landlord.”
“Is there food?”
“There will be.”
“Formula?”
“Yes.”
“Do you have someone who can help while your wife remains hospitalized?”
David opened his mouth.
His mother had been the answer to that question eleven days earlier.
“My friend Anthony,” he said finally. “He lives in Queens.”
“Has he cared for a newborn?”
“No.”
Nina made a note.
“My wife’s sister can come.”
“Have you spoken to her?”
“Not yet.”
Another note.
David felt anger rising again, not because the questions were unfair but because every answer exposed a failure he had not wanted examined.
Nina looked at him over the tablet.
“This isn’t a punishment, Mr. Mercer.”
“Major Mercer.”
The correction came automatically.
She waited.
David rubbed both hands over his face.
“David,” he said. “Just David.”
“The goal is to make sure your son has a safe discharge plan.”
“My son almost died because the person I trusted stole his food. Now I have to prove I’m safe.”
“Yes,” Nina said.
The directness startled him.
“It isn’t fair. But it is what has to happen next.”
May you like
By eight in the morning, distant sunlight had turned the hospital windows gray. New Year’s Day began with housekeeping carts, burnt coffee, and the muted television in the waiting room replaying fireworks from Times Square.
David called the landlord. The building superintendent agreed to change the locks that afternoon after David explained the medical emergency. The heating problem required a larger repair, but portable heaters could be delivered immediately.
