To Let You Go

Three

When Lina came to, she was hooked up to an IV in an uncomfortable hospital bed. Her parents were looming over her. On the stool in the corner, a man she vaguely recognized was hunched over, breathing hard. He had dark, wispy curls that kissed the nape of his neck and the middle of his ears. He looked young from what she could see in profile. Maybe she recognized him from work. He wasn't looking at her.

"Pauline!" her mother cried out. Lina winced. No one ever called her Pauline except her parents. "What happened?" Her father's brow was furrowed; it was the way he looked at her when he was worried.

"I- I don't know," Lina replied.

The man in the corner stood, allowing Lina to see his face. She felt shame and embarrassment welling up in her throat as bits and pieces of the morning came back to her. He had held her; he'd listened to her chest. He was looking at her like he knew. What had her parents told him? Lina felt her eyes start to burn with tears. She quickly looked away.

Before anyone could say anything else, Dr. Silva came into the room, a face that Lina definitely recognized. She'd seen him once a month for the last seven years. Dr. Silva was a good doctor. He was older, maybe 60, but he always said that he'd never retire. He always seemed happy to see her. He made jokes. He snuck cinnamon candies to her when she was 15 and her parents refused to let her eat anything processed. "They won't hurt you," he'd said to her. He would know. After all, Dr. Silva was the best cardiologist in the state.

Dr. Silva looked to the other man first before addressing Lina or her parents. "Good work, Dr. Boscovich. However, I think your clinic needs you. I'll take it from here."

"Thank you so much," Lina's father said, "If it weren't for you..." he trailed his sentence off. No one wanted to truly acknowledge what would have happened otherwise. Dr. Boscovich only smiled a half-hearted, closed mouth smile and left the small room, shutting the door behind him.

"Now, back to business," Dr. Silva said, adjusting his thick glasses on the bridge of his nose and glancing at the clipboard in his hands. "Your blood work came back positive for high levels of caffeine. What's that about, Ms. George? You know you can't have caffeine in your condition."

"I always drink decaf," Lina piped in. "Maybe the two got mixed up today. Maybe I made a mistake. I don't know."

"That mistake could have killed you!" her mother snapped. "You wonder why we didn't want you to leave the city!"

"Now, now, Catherine, this could have happened in the city just as easily as it happened in Lakeview," her father defended. He was always defending her. Without him, there would be no apartment in Lakeview. Lina would be a prisoner to her mother in Greene City and probably forced to do all kinds of crazy holistic cures. Her mother had already tried veganism, Himalayan sea salt lamps, cutting out processed foods, eliminating red dye from her diet. The fact remained: you can't cure structural damage with wishful thinking.

"Yeah," Lina said, "This could have happened anywhere. I order decaf, some lazy barista gives me regular. Boom! Arrhythmia."

"But it didn't happen anywhere. It happened 40 miles from us! What if we couldn't get here in time? What then, Scott?" Her mother demanded.

"I think you should stop gambling with hot beverages," Dr. Silva said. He was an expert at ending arguments between Scott and Catherine George. "Stick with herbal teas and drinks you make yourself. Dr. Boscovich was there this time. Who knows if anyone will be there next time. You owe that man a thank-you, Ms. George. He saved your life."

Lina was grateful, but she was also extremely disappointed that the illusion of her perfect life in Lakeview was shattered. Now everyone at work and half the town knew that something was wrong with her. It would be like high school all over again: the stares, the whispers. She wanted to crawl into a hole just thinking about it. But Dr. Silva was right, Dr. Boscovich deserved a thank-you, and probably an explanation, even though Lina dreaded giving one to him.