Page 15 of All the Forbidden Things
Mel shakes her head. “Not my place, not my news.”
I nod. “Thanks, I’d rather tell her face to face, and I don’t really wanna say anything until we get the lab results back.”
My stomach churns just thinking about the paternity test I did. Was it yesterday, the day before? I’ve lost all track of time. Whenever the fuck it was, it’s done, and I need the results.
“You gonna eat something?” Mel offers me the takeaway bag.
“I’m good right now thanks. Still full from your meatballs,” I add to soften the blow of refusing her food.
Mel’s an Italian New Yorker and likes to feed everyone. I’m usually happy to be on the receiving end of her caring nature, tonight, though, I’ve no fucking clue what I want or need.
The door opens, and a woman wearing a white coat enters the room. She has a thick plait of auburn hair hanging over her left shoulder.
Her eyes dart from me to Cal then back to me as her steps falter, a blush spreading up her neck and across her cheeks.
It’s the most inappropriate time to think it, but I’ve always had a thing for redheads. I’ve never dated one, but I have always found them sexy as fuck.
“Mr Young.” She offers her hand.
I take it, noting how small and warm it feels. “Max, please.”
She gives a small nod. “Am I okay to talk here, or would you like to go somewhere more private?”
“Here’s fine.”
Another nod. “I’m Emily Brown, the neurosurgeon looking after your wife. As Doctor Jenner explained, the trauma to her spine is what’s giving us the most cause for concern.”
“Do we know how bad—”
She’s shaking her head, so I press my lips together, not finishing my question. “It’ll be a few days, possibly longer, before we have any conclusive results.
“We’ve carried out x-rays, ultrasounds and an MRI, and there’s nothing as yet to suggest your wife’s injuries are permanent. She has a fracture of the L2 vertebrae, and a very tiny fragment of bone has broken away, we need to retrieve that before it embeds itself somewhere thatcould, potentially cause permanent damage. She’s also received significant trauma to the nerves that branch out from the base of the spinal cord.”
I take in a deep breath, digesting and organising in my head what I’m being told and holding on to the words “Nothing as yet to suggest your wife’s injuries are permanent.”
I’ve spent the last couple of days hating Whit, but never, not even for a moment would I wish this on her.
“Tonight, we’ll be treating your wife’s other injuries. Her wrist has already been set in a cast. There is some swelling on her brain, which we’ll continue to monitor closely, but hopefully, tomorrow, she’ll be stable enough that we can perform the required surgery on her spine . . .” She tilts her head to the side and licks her pale pink lips, and I just know there’s a “but” about to come.
“As with any surgery, spinal surgery doesn’t happen without risks or the possibility of complications. Removing the bone may enable Whitney to walk again, but it could result in nerve damage that can lead to loss of bowel and bladder control or some numbness that might inhibit sexual arousal.”
“And if you don’t do the surgery?” I ask.
“That’s not really an option. There’s a chance, in time, the nerves will repair themselves, but leaving the bone fragment there would mean the risk of permanent paralyses in the future. Even with the surgery, there’s a chance she’ll never walk unaided again.”
I look around the room as Mel, Cal, and Aaron watch me. I just want to go home to Layla, breathe in her sweet baby scent, and fall asleep with her on my bare chest. I don’t want to be here, dealing with this shit. And, once again, a flare of anger ignites inside me as I think about Whitney and her selfish actions which have led us here.
“We have some of the best surgeons in the world working at this hospital, and I’ve already taken a call from Doctor Laurence Steadman”—she gestures towards Aaron— “who I understand is a friend of Mr Shulmans. He was on his way to the airport to catch a flight into London as we spoke. He’ll need to sleep at some stage, but as he’s considered the best in his field, with outstanding results, he’ll be worth holding off the surgery for.”
Doctor Brown then looks around the room at each of my friends before her blue eyes meet mine. “Look, I know this is a scary time, but I promise you, right now, Whitney is stable. The best thing you can do is go home, try and get some sleep, rest, at least, and prepare yourselves for tomorrow.”
Mel stands. “I think the doctor’s right.”
By tomorrow, the news of Whitney’s accident will have surfaced, if it hasn’t already, and I don’t need to face that being as stressed out as I am right now. It’s going to be a shitshow. When I don’t move right away, Mel gently grabs my forearm. “Come on, Max. Let’s get you home. You need to spend time with your daughter and get some sleep.”
I nod at Mel because being at home with Layla is precisely where I want to be.
Max
