Vincent swallowed.

“There is a mass in his spine.

The doctors are still establishing exactly what it is and how to treat it.

He has weakness in one leg, pain that has been getting worse, and a procedure scheduled for tomorrow.

He made me promise not to tell you before he did.

I should have pushed him harder.”

I could hear the scrape of the rain against the consultation-room window.

“Where is he?”

“Outpatient infusion suite today.

He is not allowed to practice.

But he has still been coming here every morning, meeting specialists, completing tests, and sitting with the families of patients he transferred to other surgeons.”

The cruelty was not that he was sick.

It was that he had been frightened alone while I stood in our kitchen carefully wrapping his uneaten dinner.

I picked up the lunchbox and held it against my chest.