Chapters (27)
- Title Page
- Map
- Dedication
- Part I
- Welcome to Forever
- Open Your Eyes
- No Going Back
- Love Is War
- Meant to Be
- Part II
- Not Enough Sky
- A Better World
- We Are Here
- Till Next Time
- Look Behind You
- Part III
- The Vanishing Now
- Never Means Never
- Nothing to Lose
- Follow the Light
- Who We Are
- In the Stars
- Only One Choice
- Acknowledgments
- About the Author
- Copyright
- About the Publisher
Thora gives her the finger over her shoulder. In her treatment room, she pulls up Mr. López’s record as the door opens. “Good afternoon, Dr. Lišková.”
“Still not a doctor,” she says, smiling. “But at least you got my name right. You’re the only one who does.”
Mr. López frowns. “I never found your name difficult to remember.”
“You’d be surprised. Usually, I just give up and go by Jane Smith.” As he chuckles, she asks, “And how are you feeling today?”
He smiles his craggy smile. “All the better for seeing you.”
“That’s enough, charmer. Show me your hands.” She begins her examination. “Someone’s been drawing again,” she observes neutrally.
“It’s the way I make sense of the world,” he protests.
“It’s also the way you exacerbate your carpal tunnel.”
He looks up at her. “If I don’t practice, I won’t get better.”
Thora privately wonders how much better he can get at his age. She pushes away the thought as unkind. “Have you been doing your exercises?”
“Yes. Every day.” She can tell he’s not lying. Another reason she likes him: Mr. López, unlike so many of her patients, is not resigned. He isn’t angry, either, not like she would be in his situation. He simply does what he can, and lets the rest go. It’s an attitude she respects more than she can say.
He smiles at her as she watches his face for pain. “And what about you? How are you feeling today?”
She chuckles. “You’re my only patient who asks me that.”
“Ah, I see. Avoiding the question.”
She gives him a look. “All right. I’m feeling—odd, if you must know.”
“Odd?” He frowns. “You should take a break. My hands can wait.”
“No, it’s nothing physical. Just—” She sits up, looking into his eyes. “Do you ever have a moment when you look at the world, and don’t recognize it whatsoever?”
“Yes,” he says. “But I am eighty years old. You’re a little young to be talking that way.”
“Maybe I’m an old soul.”
He smiles. “Better than being an old body.”
“You’re doing very well for an old body,” she remonstrates. “I’m going to prescribe you something for the pain, but otherwise, you just need to cut down on the drawing and keep up with the exercises. I know they hurt like hell, but your range of motion is great, much better than it was.”