Page 83 of A Better World

Danny placed Carlos onto the table. He’d gained very little weight. The child’s skinniness was a disturbing sight. Linda worked hard not to let it show on her face. She put one hand on the baby’s belly, the other on his forehead. “Sweetie,” she cooed. “You don’t feel so good, do you?” Then, to Danny, she asked, “I’m glad you scheduled an appointment. But what changed your mind?”

Tears filled his eyes and his voice broke. “We took him everywhere. No one can tell us what this is. You said you wanted to help.”

“I do.” Linda took two very small blood samples, ran the first through the system she’d finagled from Chernin. Same results as last time. She saved the report, attached it to the second vial. Started filling out the hemostatic oncology form for the PV system, then reconsidered.

“Are you mobile? Can you travel to a different state if I find a good hospital for him?” she asked.

He examined her expression, as if somehow convinced she was pranking him. When he saw that wasn’t the case, he looked away. “Yes. We can leave tonight. Now, if that’s best.”

“I can’t promise anything. But I can try. Meantime, you’re doing a good job. He’s bonded to you. I can tell. He can’t focus on anything. Not even the bright colors. But he tracks your voice in the room.”

Danny wiped his eyes with the heels of his hands. “This is so hard,” he croaked.

She was thinking the child might die. He’d remember this conversation if that happened. “The hardest thing in the world,” she agreed. “Nothing in your life will ever be harder than right now.”

“God, I hope not,” he said.

“I’m going to make some calls and come up with a plan for both of you. I’m not as convinced as I once was that PV is the best place for his treatment.”

“Why not PV?” he asked, looking up at the altar of feathers and leather. There was a knowingness in the question that he needed corroborated.

“For one, they couldn’t diagnose the cancer with the last blood sample I gave them. So, I doubt they’ll magically manage it with a second sample. For another, I have to apply for resources that may get stuck in bureaucratic red tape. Leukemia is tricky. Lots of hospitals will send you home with some infusion therapy and that’s it. But there are other places, public places running clinical trials right now, where I think you might have better chances.

“I have a hunch what this specific cancer might be. It’s got a lot of names—because there’s no data sharing, the hospitals are all treatingit differently. Give me a few days and I’ll come up with a plan,” she said.

Danny picked up his baby. Despite Carlos’s listlessness, he nuzzled into his father’s chest.

“You’re not like the last one.”

“What?” she asked.

“The lady before you who worked here. I didn’t like her.”

“You’ve been here before?”

“I took my niece when she had the flu. A lotta people came here. It’s why no one likes this clinic. They weren’t nice. You can live with that if you have to, but they didn’t help, either. Especially that doc.”

“Trish Parker,” Linda said.

“She wouldn’t shake hands. She thought we were dirty. She thought all the kids had syphilis. Her answer to everything was penicillin. I don’t think she was a real doctor. It was a science degree but not medicine. She never helped.”

Linda burned with shame. “I’m sorry. That’s inexcusable.” And then, somehow, she asked the most insensitive question possible. “Do you know what happened to the bird shelter out front, or who defaced the building?”

He didn’t take offense. Hungry, Carlos sucked on his forearm, so Danny produced a baggy of dried Cheerios and fed them to him one at a time. “No. But I’m not surprised it happened. People around here are mad. PV residents don’t learn our names. All they care about is how fast the food gets delivered and if their house is clean. Look at our town. They stole all the water. They brought the dust. They don’t care so long as they have their nannies and plumbers and hookers. This,” he said, indicating the room, and the clinic, “makes them feel like good people. But they’re not good people.”

Linda leaned against the wall, wishing she could slide down. “I’m inclined to agree.”

She made a point of shaking his hand, promising to follow up, and wishing them luck.

Once Danny left, Matt knocked, asking Linda for her notes. She had the feeling that this wasn’t a random information raid on JackLust’s part. It was about Danny’s son, whose appointment had been in the system.

“Why?” she asked.

“ActHollow has to have evidence of everything they’re doing here.”

“If we want their personal information attached to their health information, we need them to sign a waiver. Otherwise, patient identity has to be stripped.”

“I’ll do it. I’ll strip it,” he said.

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