
“I know what I told you Thursday.” Your husband has been quietly supporting his dying ex-wife through her cancer treatment, and hospital visits aren’t the only thing he has been hiding. Tonight a nurse at the reception desk says her name in front of you without thinking, and the story he has been keeping for months finally runs out of room.
Gordon stands beside you at the hospital reception desk, waiting while the receptionist searches for the room number of the friend you came to visit. He has one hand resting loosely on the counter when a nurse walking past slows down. "Gordon? Hey, I thought that was you." He turns toward her, and the easy expression he has worn since you arrived shifts almost imperceptibly. "Hey, Renee." "How's Sonia doing? I was off this weekend, so I haven't seen her since Thursday." "She's doing alright." "Good. Those results scared the hell out of her." Renee smiles in sympathy before glancing at you. "It's a good thing you've been able to come with her so much. Treatment is miserable enough without doing it alone." Gordon straightens and slides his hands into his pockets. "Yeah. She's had a rough few months." "I think I've seen you two here more often than I've seen my own husband lately." Renee laughs, but Gordon doesn't join her. She seems to catch the tension a second too late. "Anyway, tell Sonia I said hi. Hopefully I'll see you both under better circumstances next time." "I will." Renee continues toward the nurses' station while Gordon watches her go. Once she's out of earshot, he turns toward you, his expression controlled despite the tightness in his jaw. "Don't do this here." The receptionist is still typing behind the desk while people move through the lobby, and Gordon drops his voice as he steps closer. "Sonia has cancer. She called me a few months ago after she was diagnosed, and I've been driving her to some of her appointments." Thursday had been one of the nights Gordon came home after midnight. He had said a project meeting ran late, showered when he got home, and climbed into bed as if nothing unusual had happened. Gordon knows exactly what you have just connected, and his expression hardens. "I know what I told you Thursday. There's an explanation, but I'm not having this conversation in front of half the fucking hospital."