He took in a breath, and as he followed my lead, his body relaxed. I snuggled up next to him, hoping he would wake up with a new perspective. Stressing over Peter was pointless. Regardless, Peter and I were long overdue for a conversation, and I lay awake, hoping it wouldn’t mean my entire team would be out of a job.

chapter thirty

white glove

Zeke

I

n my dream the night before, I saw the Devil. At least, I thought it was him. He was standing in the doorway, breathing deep, his dark red chest heaving, the breath coming from his pig-like nostrils visible as if it was cold. But it wasn’t. The room was a sauna. Fire was all around me, sweat poured from my skin, dripped from my nose, my hair soaked. When I woke, I was still wet with perspiration, but Naomi was holding me anyway, telling me it was going to be okay before I even told her what had happened.

Now, sitting in Dr. Levine’s office, I was cold. The white walls, his white lab coat was draining me somehow. Needle pricks, stress tests, X-Rays, telemetry wires stuck to me every few days; I was tired. Knowing I was sick made me feel sick. I remembered feeling dizzy on a twenty-mile hike and ignored it. Now that I knew my heart was fucked up, that dizziness was somehow amplified. I felt like I was dying.

“It’s his medication,” Naomi said. “He’s gone from none to eight.”

“It could take a bit to get it right, but he’ll feel much better, I assure you,” Dr. Levine said, writing something down.

“He’s not better, he’s worse,” Naomi said, leaning forward.

Dr. Levine nodded, writing more.

Naomi slapped his desk.

He looked up, pushing up his designer glasses.

“You’re not listening to him,” Naomi said, glaring at the doctor. “I realize you’re a god, a cardiologist who lives in a fancy house with an ex-cheerleader wife and model babies, but your meds aren’t improving your patient’s quality of life. Do your fucking job. Earn your lifestyle.”

Dr. Levine laced his fingers together, resting his hands on his desk. “This is an emotional time for everyone. I understand you’ve been caring for Zeke.”

“And doing a damn fine job,” I said, smiling at her.

She squeezed my hand.

“You look tired. Are you sleeping?” Dr. Levine asked.

“Don’t patronize me,” Naomi warned.

“Babe,” I said, squeezing her hand again. “It’s a good question. Are you sleeping?”

She turned to me, the dark circles under her eyes more noticeable since the doctor had mentioned it. She was exhausted.

“No, I’m fine.”

“Naomi…”

“Zeke, I used to sleep with one eye open in the African jungle. I can get up with you a few times a night.”

“A few times a night? Why? I’m not waking up that much.”