Page 108 of Broken Dream

“Yeah. I used to run with Lindsay.”

Dr. Steel lifts her gaze from the notepad and gives me an attentive nod.

“We’d go for runs in the park every Sunday,” I explain, staring past her at the bookshelves. My voice is distant, as if it belongs to someone else. “It helped us unwind. I’ve tried to keep up the habit. It’s one of the few things that still makes sense.”

“And do you think it has helped? This routine?”

I shrug. “To some degree, I suppose. There’s comfort in the physical exertion, in the constancy. It’s like, if I can keep going one more mile, then I can keep going through everything else.”

“You’ve built a routine around your resilience,” she says, scribbling something down on her notepad. “That speaks volumes to your strength, Dr. Lansing.”

Strength. I huff out a laugh. “Then I’m strong enough for this surgery, wouldn’t you say? Regardless of the outcome?”

She sighs. “If I said yes at this point, I’d be doing you a disservice, as well as a disservice to the hospital board who asked me to do this evaluation.”

I furrow my brow, unable to hold back the frustration that bubbles to the surface. “You think I’m not fit for the surgery,” I state, more as an accusation than a question.

Dr. Steel looks at me, her gaze unreadable. “I think,” she says slowly, “that there are still some unresolved issues you need to deal with. These are not disqualifications, Dr. Lansing, but they are obstacles.”

“Obstacles,” I repeat, my voice thick with sarcasm. “Is that what we’re calling it?”

“Call it whatever you like,” she says calmly. “But the fact remains that emotional well-being is just as crucial as physical capability when it comes to an experimental surgery that may give you back something crucial that you’ve lost. Or it may not. It may make things worse. And that, Dr. Lansing, is my concern. If the surgery works, I feel certain that you’ll be fine. If it doesn’t…”

Her words are left hanging in the air, echoing with unspoken implications.

I’m silent, unable to respond immediately. It’s a scenario that I’ve considered many times, but hearing it from her adds a new layer of weight to it.

“If it doesn’t,” I finally echo, forcing a neutral tone. “You’re worried about my reaction.”

Or more precisely, she’s worried I may do what Lindsay resorted to. I may take my own life.

She nods. “That’s right, Dr. Lansing. It’s my job to ensure the hospital that you can handle whatever outcome you’ll face. Especially since you don’t seem to have an adequate support system.”

Anger boils up inside me, and for the first time in our monotonous conversation, I feel my control slip. “So what do you propose, Dr. Steel?” I snap. “Another round of therapy? More digging into my past?”

“I’m not proposing anything yet,” she says, seemingly unfazed by my outburst. “I am, however, suggesting we continue this conversation.”

Chapter Thirty-Five

Angie

“Do you mind?” Ralph gestures to the stool next to me, the one Aunt Mel vacated.

“Knock yourself out,” I say. “I’m just leaving.”

“Stay. Please.”

He’s got to be kidding. “Thanks. But no.” I rise.

He grabs my arm.

I yank it away. “Don’t fucking touch me,” I say through clenched teeth.

He rolls his eyes. “For God’s sake, Angie, we’re in a public place. What kind of man do you think I am?”

I sit back down so I can lower my voice and be sure that he hears every word.

“You’ve already shown me who you are. You threatened to blackmail me with a story that isn’t true.” The lie is bitter on my tongue.