Page 81 of Broken Dream
And because it’s not—because I’m feeling something that I don’t think I ever felt for my wife—guilt overwhelms me.
How can I feel something for another woman that I never felt for Lindsay? I always thought Lindsay and I were soulmates. Perhaps we were. Perhaps you don’t have just one soulmate.
I’m not in love with Angie Simpson. I barely know her.
But I feel a pull. A magnetic attraction that yanks at my chest, twisting my heart in perplexing directions. I feel a connection, an undercurrent of shared understanding that seems to bind us like an invisible thread.
It’s different from what I had with Lindsay. Our love was comfortable, solid as the ground beneath our feet. Perhaps it lacked the raw intensity I’m grappling with now, but it had a quiet strength, a resilience that lasted through good times and bad. Until it got too bad for either of us to handle.
With Angie, everything is new and disturbingly intense. There’s an odd familiarity about her that has nothing to do with memories or past experiences. It feels more like a deep-rooted knowledge, as if some part of me recognizes her from other lives lived long ago. And since I don’t believe in that stuff, it’s all the more frightening.
Guilt gnaws at me, making every breath a struggle. Is it fair? Is it right to have such feelings for someone else when my love for Lindsay still lingers?
But then again, isn’t love supposed to be selfless?
Isn’t love supposed to be a celebration of another’s existence, rather than an obligation driven by guilt? Perhaps it’s not my attraction to Angie that belittles my feelings for Lindsay, but the guilt itself. It’s the guilt that makes me question, that breeds self-doubt and regret.
I haven’t told Angie about Lindsay. About Julia.
Every time I look at Angie, I see a different life, one filled with possibilities and happiness. A life where my heart doesn’t feel like it’s made of lead, where guilt doesn’t gnaw incessantly at every moment of joy.
But for that life to exist, do I have to erase Lindsay and Julia from my past?
None of that matters anyway.
Angie is my student.
I need to stop this before it goes so far that neither of us can take it back.
I head out to lunch when my phone buzzes. It’s Louisa.
“Hi there,” I say into the phone.
“Hey, Jason,” she says. “We’ve run into a little snafu with the surgery.”
My heart falls.
Of course. Why should this surprise me at all? It was always too good to be true.
“Fuck. Are you kidding me?”
“I wish I were.” She clears her throat. “Gita and I went in front of the hospital medical board yesterday evening. They convened a special session to discuss your surgery. Gita’s presentation was flawless, and we both figured this was just a formality.”
“But…” I prompt.
She sighs. “They have doubts about allowing the surgery because of the potential complications. The nerve graft in your hand is a complicated experimental procedure, and they worry about the potential for permanent damage if it doesn’t go as planned. They want you to understand all the risks before proceeding.”
I lean against the wall, closing my eyes. This surgery was supposed to be my second chance, a new beginning away from all the guilt and pain.
“I do understand,” I reply, willing myself to stay calm. “I’m willing to take the risk.”
“Jason, it’s not that simple,” she replies. “They want you to meet with the board before making a final decision. They want you to understand clearly what could happen and make sure you can cope with every possible outcome.”
The news crashes into me like a tidal wave. My mind is a whirl of thoughts and fears. More delays, more uncertainty, more waiting. I’m a surgeon, for fuck’s sake. I understand complications. I understand what could happen. I’m not a damned moron.
The board just wants to be free of any liability if something goes wrong. And they’re going to do everything they can to convince me not to undertake this challenge.
“And…” she says.
