Free The Secret of the Nightingale Palace by Dana Sachs Page B

it new?” she asked.
    â€œI don’t know.” Ford looked as mystified as she was.
    The doctor didn’t say much then, but she became more focused. She found more bruises, one behind Ford’s leg, another on his back. Ford said, “Are you thinking she beats me?” He was grinning, but Anna could see that he was becoming concerned. She tried to laugh.
    The doctor smiled, then asked Ford, “Any other problems? Changes in your sleeping patterns? Your diet?”
    â€œI’ve been sleeping a lot.”
    â€œLike what’s ‘a lot’?”
    Ford looked at Anna. His exhaustion had created a distance between them. He went to sleep so early and woke so late that they never talked in bed these days, seldom talked at all. Now, though, she could see that he wanted her close. She couldn’t, of course, know it at the time, but the look on his face at that moment, his sudden and frank expression of need, marked a shift in their relationship. With that one simple glance between them, Anna slipped right into her new role as caregiver, though it would be weeks before either of them understood that.
    â€œWell,” she told the doctor, “like on Friday night, he came home and went to bed at around eight, and then he slept until noon. He did the same thing on Saturday night. Could it be mono, maybe?” Now she suddenly wanted mono, because the bruises scared her.
    â€œAnd diet?”
    Ford kept his eyes on his wife. She said, “He’s lost some weight.”
    â€œAnything else unusual?” the doctor asked.
    Ford shook his head. “I think that’s it.” But when he saw Anna staring at him intently, he asked, “What?”
    â€œThe nosebleeds?” There had been a couple of occasions in recent weeks when Ford had grown furious over Anna’s nagging about his health. She did her best, then, to sound gentle and uncertain, like an imbecile making random connections.
    In retrospect, though, she would have preferred his anger, because the fear on his face at that moment nearly broke her heart. “Do you think that’s related?” he asked.
    â€œI’m just wondering,” she said vaguely. Had Ford never considered these questions? Had he failed to notice that these days he always spit out blood when he brushed his teeth?
    The doctor kept her attention focused on her computer, into which she was putting her notes. “This is all very helpful,” she told them.
    In the end, Dr. Snider ordered a range of blood tests and asked them to come back the next day. There was a comfort to the fact that they would have some answers very soon, but the urgency added a new reason for concern. Didn’t lab tests usually take longer? In any case, Dr. Snider offered nothing in the form of hypotheses. “Do you have any ideas?” Anna asked.
    â€œOh, there are a lot of possibilities,” she told them, offhand now. “Don’t worry.” She looked at Ford. “You need to get some rest, obviously. I’m not saying you should skip work, but I’d like you to take it easy until we get to the bottom of this.”
    Both of their mothers went with them to Dr. Snider’s office the next day. Anna’s mother, who drove, tried to offer cheerful commentary on everything from the possibility of rain to the opening of a new Whole Foods near her house. When no one responded, though, her voice eventually trailed off. Ford’s mom was catatonic. Once they arrived at Dr. Snider’s office, the mothers stayed in the waiting room while Ford and Anna filed through the door and into the maze of examining rooms and offices. This time Ford didn’t have to strip off his clothes. The nurse led them into the doctor’s empty office, where they sat in chairs in front of her desk and stared at pictures of her kids. The night before, Anna had asked Ford if he’d like to talk. “Why speculate?” he’d replied, before