—Then give me the probability.
Dr.
Cole pulled a chair beside the bed.
—You are not negotiating a merger.
You are sick.
Treatment may stabilize you, but you must stop behaving as if your body is an employee that can be threatened into compliance.
Nathaniel turned toward the window.
The room overlooked a portion of the city he had dominated for years.
From that height, the buildings looked orderly.
Manageable.
His fear did not.
Lily sat at a small table with her crayons.
She had drawn four figures beneath a yellow sun.
One wore a pink sweater.
One had Elena’s dark hair.
One had Mrs.
Whitmore’s silver bun.
The fourth was unusually tall and dressed in black.
Nathaniel pointed to it.
—Who is that?
—You.
—Why am I smiling?
Lily looked confused by the question.
—Because you’re not by yourself.
Nathaniel turned his face away before another tear could betray him.
That night, Elena prepared to leave.
—I’ll come back for Lily’s doll tomorrow, she said.
Nathaniel glanced at the doll on the bedside table.
—She said I could borrow it.
Elena paused.
—Then keep it tonight.
Lily approached the bed.
—You have to give her back when you’re not scared anymore.
Nathaniel considered making a joke.
He considered telling her that fear was not an emotion he entertained.
Instead, he asked the truth.
—What if that takes a long time?
Lily placed her small palm against the back of his hand.
—Then she can stay a long time.
After they left, Nathaniel remained awake beneath the soft pulse of the monitors.
Mrs.
Whitmore sat in the chair near the door, pretending to read.
At midnight, Nathaniel spoke without looking at her.
—You can go home.
—Yes, sir.
She did not move.
—Mrs.
Whitmore.
—You told the child that your heart was sick.
I believe that qualifies as an unusual day.
I am adjusting the schedule.
Nathaniel almost told her that he did not pay her to sit beside hospital beds.
But that was not why she remained, and both of them knew it.
—Thank you, he said.
Mrs.
Whitmore lowered the book.
