Say You'll Remember Me(92)

It felt like I was looking at myself fifty years into the future. No wife. Just a lonely old man, still walking the halls of this place that I’d begun to resent.

Hank didn’t resent it. It was salvation for him. For me it felt like a life sentence. I loved this place and I hated it in equal measure.

Jake from State Farm spotted me first and bounded over to greet me.

“Oh, well hello there,” Hank said, looking up. “I didn’t expect to see you back so soon.”

“I wanted to give you a break,” I said, crouching to pet my dog.

He waved me off. “Eh, I’m fine. Getting my second wind actually. I think the extra days did me some good, greased up the old joints.”

I nodded. I was glad he wasn’t burning out at least. I didn’t know what I would have done without him these last few months.

Hank was a phenomenal doctor. The feedback from patients was all positive, Maggie and Tina were happy—I got to spend time in the hospital without worrying about the practice.

But more than that, he seemed to be a genuinely good man. And in my opinion most people weren’t.

It occurred to me that Hank was here for the same reason I was today. To escape what wasn’t at home. I was glad this place could be that for him. That he was getting as much out of this arrangement as I was.

He nodded over his shoulder. “Join me for lunch? You caught me between patients. The ladies made lasagna.”

“We used the Italian sausage you like, Dr. Rush,” Tina said, leaning over the front desk. “We were going to bring some over after work.”

“Thanks,” I said. “And yes, I’ll join you.” He gave me a pleased smile and I followed him to the back.

“I was glad to hear you were out of the hospital,” he said, washing his hands.

“Yeah. I’m doing much better.”

“Good. Don’t be in a hurry to come back. I can do a few more days.” He took a seat at the break table where there was a foil covered pan on a warming tray.

“I don’t want you to be sore,” I said, heading to the fridge. “Drink?”

“Anything without caffeine.”

I grabbed Sprites. Hank had served himself and was taking a bite of the lasagna when I came back and sat.

“Mmmmm, delicious,” he said, closing his eyes. “I think I wouldn’t even be eating if it wasn’t for this job.”

I scoffed. “Same.”

“I never was much of a cook,” he said, cutting the pasta with the side of his fork. “And even if I was, don’t think I could bring myself to be in the kitchen or sit at the table. The house is too empty. Feels like a void there.”

“I get that too,” I said.

I served myself a small piece. My appetite was low. Either from residual illness or the depression that I felt creeping in now that she was gone.

I sat there, poking at my food. I could feel Hank watching me.

“Can I ask, what all is going on with you?”

“Nothing,” I said. “I just got sick.”

He harrumphed. “I think you got heartsick is what you got.”

“Ha.” He was probably right.

“Why doesn’t she move here?” he asked. “That girlfriend you’ve got.”

“She can’t. She’s the primary caregiver for her mom.”

“Can her mom move with her?”

I shook my head. “No. Definitely not.”

“Hmmm. And why don’t you move there?”

“I can’t. The business is…” I stopped. “I just can’t.”

“It seems profitable—”

“It is. It’s just not enough. I can’t sell it yet. Couldn’t pay my replacement. If I’m not here to run it, I have to close it. I’d lose everything.”

He chuckled a little. “Well, you might lose a lot, but not everything.”

“I’d go bankrupt—”

“And?” He looked amused. “You know how many failed clinics I had? Two to be exact. One that the city decided to do road work in front of for eight months. Made my patients walk two blocks in sub-degree weather just to get to the door. Put me right out of business. Then another one with a bad deal with a partner. Shuttered after eleven years, had to start all over again from scratch. These things happen. At the end of the day, you’re still a doctor, whether you have this building or not.” He took another bite.

“It’s not just that,” I said.

He chewed and swallowed. “It never is. I’m gonna tell you something. I hope you don’t mind some sage advice from an old man.” He looked me in the eye. “I would trade everything for one more day with my wife. Everything. If you love that girl even half as much as I loved my Claire, you will pack your bags and leave yesterday.” He nodded at the back room. “None of this matters. None of it. It’s just stuff. You can build another clinic somewhere else, but that? What you have with her? That is not easy to find. The universe doesn’t just hand out true love. And I know that’s what this is because I see you’re willing to kill yourself over it. So if you have that, if you’re one of the lucky ones, why in God’s green earth would you give it up?”

“My credit—”