Page 15 of You're So Vine
“You always know the right thing to say,” I tell him. “Even when it’s a big fat lie.”
I feel those stupid tears rising again. Combination of gratitude and anxiety, I suppose. I want this to be over. Cam puts his hand over mine and I clutch onto it. But I can’t look at him. I’m too worried about what Doc Wilson’s about to tell me.
“Ava, I’m sorry to put you through this,” Doc says. “But your mother’s already told me she’s been worried about your health.”
Goddammit, Mom, why didn’t you tellmefirst?Forewarned is forearmed. I would have been better prepared for this.
“Mom?!” I protest. Deflect! Deflect! “But she’s worried about all of us. Ever since Dad got sick, she—”
“She’s become a little hypervigilant, that’s true,” says Doc. “But she’s got good instincts for what’s normal and what’s not. She says you quit your job because of exhaustion. Is that right?”
I feel Cam’s hand tense. Deflect!
“It wasn’t just that,” I lie. “I … fell out of love with it. Lots of hard work for not that much reward. Rather work as a stable hand, truth be told.”
“But you were exhausted?” Doc presses me.
“It’s grueling!”
Doc’s expression suggests I might want to give up on being defensive, as it’s only prolonging things.
“Okay, I got tired.” If I admit this much, he might be more inclined to believe me. “To the point where I was getting clumsy, which is not good when you’re trying to control a highly strung racehorse. I figured this was my body’s way of confirming that I was over the job, and what I needed was a break, a rest. So, I quit.”
That’s it. That’s all. No more questions.
Doc has more questions.
“You have any numbness?” he asks. “Pins and needles?”
“No.” I can be honest about that, at least.
“Light-headedness? Dizziness?”
Cam’s hand twitches again. I resist glancing at him.
“Not apart from tonight.”
That’s mostly honest, but it doesn’t seem to cut much ice with Doc.
“I want to do some more tests,” he announces.
I hear Cam give a small grunt and I realize I’m crushing his hand. But I can’t seem to loosen my grip. This is my worst nightmare.
“Why?” I demand. “What do you think this is?”
“Ava, it could be nothing,” he says. “Or it could be one of a whole range of conditions. I won’t know until I test.”
“Doc, please give me a clue! What kind of conditions?”
He sighs, but I know him well enough to know it’s not because I’m being difficult. It’s because there is no easy answer.
“I want to check for mineral and vitamin deficiencies,” he says. “Nerve damage, brain lesions. Any possible viral or parasitic causes. So that’s blood tests, EP tests and an MRI for starters. Possibly a lumbar puncture.”
That’s it. I’m all out of self-control. I burst into tears. Cam pulls me to him and wraps his big arms around me. He smells like sweat and woodsmoke. I probably do, too.
“I’m sorry, Ava,” says Doc, and I know he means it. “Wouldn’t put you through this if I had any choice. But not to do it would be negligent. I’m too fond of you and your family to cut corners.”
Cam speaks over my head. “Does she have to stay here? Can I take her home?”
