“You’re going to be fine,” Kate says again.
Glass exploding like a bomb full of diamonds.
Blood on the leather car seats. Her mother’s face, white and red and grey.
“You’re going to be fine.”
Kate and Ian sit side by side in the waiting room at the hospital emergency department, fingers entwined on Ian’s knee. They’ve been here for an hour and a half. Audrey was taken into triage within minutes of her arrival, but they haven’t heard from a nurse or doctor since.
“She’s going to be okay,” Ian says, squeezing her hand in reassurance.
Kate manages a small smile of gratitude, but her stomach churns. She spent most of the ride with her eyes shut against the lights of the ambulance in front of them, wondering whether Audrey would even make it to the hospital alive. She hasn’t been inside a hospital since the accident, and it’s taking everything she’s got to stay calm.
“Did you get a hold of Sue?” she asks.
“Couldn’t reach her, but I left a message.”
Another half hour passes before a doctor emerges from behind the swinging doors of the ER.
“Kate Mercer?” he asks. He’s balding extensively, and the harsh lighting reflects off his forehead.
Ms. Mercer? We’re going to need to ask you a few questions…
“Yes,” Kate says, swatting away the memories that keep pecking at her brain. She releases Ian’s hand and stands up. “How is she?”
The doctor’s expression is serious behind his round glasses. “She’s stable. It’s a bit of an odd thing,” he says. “She presented as a heart attack, but the ECG showed no indication of a cardiac event.”
Kate feels the clench in her own chest loosen slightly at his words. “Oh. Well that’s good, right?”
“Generally, yes,” he says. A doctor is paged over the intercom. “We examined her medical history, and based on that, and what she’s told us, we ran some tests to determine whether the chest pain and the fall might have been related to the cancer. But we can’t see any indication of a connection.”
A wave of cold ripples down Kate’s body from her head to her legs. Beside her, Ian nods at the doctor, slides one arm around her waist.
“I’m sorry, the what?”
“The cancer. She’s named you both as her next of kin, Ms. Mercer. You are aware that she has a terminal case?”
Kate’s mouth has gone dry. “I, er…”
“She declined any chemotherapy or radiation months ago. She’s on medication now to keep her comfortable. But we still don’t think this is related. Ruling out other possibilities, I’m wondering whether this might have been psychosomatic. A panic attack, of sorts. Do you know if she’s prone to them, or has been under any particular sort of stress lately?”
Kate stares at him. “Other than a terminal diagnosis, you mean?”
The doctor nods. “Something more acute that might have triggered this episode. Something out of the ordinary.”
This is all Kate’s fault. “We’ve had some difficult conversations lately.”
“Can a panic attack do something like this though?” Ian asks. “Seems a bit extreme.”
The doctor nods again. “Often panic attacks are mistaken for, and mimic, heart attacks. Chest pain, sweating, rapid heart rate, et cetera. It can be frightening for the patient, and the stress and fear can exacerbate the symptoms in a cyclical way,” he says. “But when we rule out clinical explanations for the symptoms, that’s pretty much what we’re left with.”
“Can we see her?” Kate asks. “Is she awake?”
“Yes. Come on through. We’re going to keep her here overnight to monitor her, as a precaution, given her age and health situation. But I suspect we’ll discharge her in the morning.”
They follow the doctor through the swinging doors into another brightly lit corridor. Kate hurries along behind him with Ian at her side, her mind blank. They turn several corners before the doctor stops outside a patient room and gestures for them to go in. He hurries off, but they remain in the hallway.
“She’s terminal?” Kate whispers to Ian.
A nurse passes by, pumps a squirt of hand sanitizer into his palm from the dispenser on the wall, and nods somberly at them. Kate’s nostrils fill with the chemical scent of illness.
Ian looks at her, face drawn in the shadow of the overhead lights, and something about the pity in his eyes makes her pause.
“Did you know?” she asks him.
He sighs. “Yeah. I did.”
Kate takes a step back, stung. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
He shoves his hands into his trouser pockets. “I’m sorry. She told me in confidence, and I thought—”
“You know how close I’ve gotten to her,” Kate hisses. “You know what she means to me, Ian.” She’s fighting back tears now. “Why would you keep this from me? How long have you known?”
Ian shrugs. “A month or two, I guess. Sometime back in the fall. She pulled me into the office and told me.”
Kate bites down on her bottom lip as she recalls that day Ian came out of Audrey’s office looking upset.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I am.”
