Page 79 of That Weekend in Paris
“Did you get in touch with Riley? “I ask, leaning my head against the back of the seat and closing my eyes.
“I did,” Curtis says. “Can’t say she was any too happy until I told her you were sick. Then she put on her compassionate hat. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I know she’s the mother of your child, but good lord, Klein.”
“Yeah, I know,” I say.
~
DR. MACAU IS as good as Curtis promised he would be. In his office at Vanderbilt, he asks me dozens of questions before ever taking a look at me. Among them, questions about where I’ve been recently, what I’ve eaten, had to drink, things I might’ve been exposed to, people I’ve been with. I begin to wonder where he’s going with this, but he’s doesn’t give me any clues.
Once he’s completed the questions, he calls a nurse, a kind, motherly older woman, who greets me with a reassuring smile and asks me to please follow her. I do so and end up in an examination room where she tells me to put on a lovely blue paper gown and lets me know that the doctor will be in very soon. He is and gives me the most thorough examination I’ve ever had in my life. Once that’s complete, he says, “Klein, I’d like to get some blood work, get a urine sample, and if you don’t mind, I’d like to take a sample of your hair from the back of your head. It won’t be noticeable. We’ll get it so that you’ll never even know it was done.”
Of everything he’s said, I find this the most alarming, not out of vanity, but concern for what the reason would be.“I have to ask you, doctor, what are you thinking?”
“Just trying to cover all the bases, Klein, and since you were in another country and your activities have been a little unusual, I’d like to make sure you haven’t taken in some kind of toxic substance. We’ll do a tox screen.”
This, of all things, is not what I expected to hear. “What kind of toxin?”
“It could be anything,” Dr. Macau says, shaking his head a little. “But your symptoms are fairly unusual given that there doesn’t seem to be any prompting factor.”
“Yeah,” I say. “Okay. Whatever you need to do.”
Once I’m done, I walk back to the waiting room where Curtis is looking at a magazine and waiting for me.
“Everything go okay?”
“Yeah, yeah,” I say. “I’m not sure what to make of it, but I guess we’ll find out what he thinks at some point.”
“It’s probably nothing,” Curtis says. “A virus or some bug you picked up. Better to cover all the bases though, right?”
I agree with a silent nod and we walk from the office to the parking lot, getting back in Curtis’s car.
“He did do some kind of weird testing, though, and when I asked him why, he indicated he wanted to make sure I hadn’t taken in anything toxic.”
“You mean like you were poisoned?” Curtis asked.
“I really don’t know,” I say. “I mean accidentally of course. I didn’t deliberately expose myself to anything.”
“Right,” Curtis says, but he looks a little startled by the revelation, and if I didn’t feel so weak and out of it, I would ask him why. I don’t have the strength for the conversation right now, so I just close my eyes and let him drive me home.
Riley
“Some allies are more dangerous than enemies.”
?George R.R. Martin
I AM MORE than ready to be released from the hospital. My stay has been longer than the average delivery stay because I seem to have developed an infection that the doctors want to make sure isn’t going to be an issue before they release me. I’m beyond bummed that Klein hasn’t shown up today and not sure what to make of Curtis’s explanation. He’d said Klein was unable to come because he had been sick this morning. I’m beginning to regret my rash decision to pay Klein back with a few bouts of violent illness.
I mean, what if it actually kills him? Then what would I do? We’re not married. No provisions have been made for the baby since Klein hadn’t even known about her. A hard wedge of fury forces its way up from somewhere deep inside me, and I curse my ignorance. I may end up being my own worst enemy, after all.
A rap at the door interrupts my worrying. “Come in,” I say, hopeful that Klein has recovered enough to make it here today. But the face that appears is not one I had expected. “Pete,” I say, not bothering to hide my irritation. “What are you doing here?”
His boots thud heavily on the hospital floor. “I just came by to check in and see how you’re doing.”
“There’s absolutely no reason on earth why that would be necessary or expected.”
“I’m sure of that,” he says, walking around the bed to take a seat in the chair next to me. I’m glad suddenly that Noelle can’t stay in the room yet. I don’t want him to tarnish the promise of her birth with memories of the payment I’d had to make for Pete’s silence.
“Why are you here, Pete?” I ask, trying not to make the words an actual hiss.
