Free Enough About Love by Herve Le Tellier

hospital I’m at. And if I’m not around, because you never know, you ask for Herzog and say I sent you, he’s very good. Actually, you know what? Go and see him. For a second opinion. I won’t be upset, I can just imagine what you’re going through right now.”
    “No, Stan, I won’t disturb him, I have faith in you.”
    “No, I want you to: go and see Herzog. I really don’t want you thinking I’m being all reassuring because you’re my wife’s brother and a friend.”
    “Thanks. I understand. But I won’t go. And … isn’t there some diet I can follow? Or food supplements? To nourish the retina? What about lusein? I’ve heard that—”
    “Lutein. Avoid all those parapharmaceuticals … If you really want some lutein, you can get it from spinach, kiwi fruit, pretty much anything green … you can always fill your boots with that. For night vision, eat plenty of blueberries, like airline pilots. It works.”
    “Is there really no preventive treatment? Is there nothing I can do?”
    “Nothing. Take a rain check on strenuous sport: soccer, squash, weight lifting, anything that rapidly increases pressure in the eye. Lose a bit of weight, do some cycling, some walking, that doesn’t do anyone any harm. Anyway, you’re only thirty-five, high blood pressure’s not a problem.”
    Simon says nothing. He closes his right eye, looks in front of him, reaches out his arm and watches his hand disappear, swallowed up by the gray hole that the Fuch’s spot has carved out in the middle of his vision. He leans his head back, takes a deep breath … Stan takes him by the shoulders.
    “Simon … everything’s fine.”
    “I’ve got this heavy weight crushing my chest, it’s terrible, I can’t breathe properly … If this happens to my right eye now, I won’t be able to work anymore, or read, I won’t be able to see Nadine’s face, or the children’s, I—”
    “Don’t worry, your right retina’s absolutely fine. I know you’re just as nearsighted on both sides, but it’s pointless worrying. The risk of bilateralization—”
    “The risk of what?”
    “Of the same thing happening in the other eye … is very low.”
    “How low? I’m sorry to go on about this, Stan, but one in a hundred, in ten, in two?”
    “I promise you, it’s very rare, no one has reliable statistics. I have hundreds of patients with a Fuch’s spot in one eye, and hardly any of them are affected in both.”
    Stan is lying. Sufficient unto the day …
    “I’m going to give you a prescription. For some sedatives. I want you to take them, I haven’t known a single patient who hasn’t been depressed for a while. I’d expect it. Losing an eye is a shocking loss, these drugs are there to be used. I can even recommend a psychiatrist.”
    “No, come on.” Simon is indignant.
    Stan smiles and does not press the point. “Listen, Simon, I’ve just had an appointment canceled, let’s have a closer look at the pressure in this right eye, because you’re worried about it, and afterward we can have lunch in the hospital cafeteria. They may have some kiwis …”
    Kiwis they have. Simon eats three of them.
    That evening, Stan is on duty at Quinze-Vingts Hospital. Anna is worried, she calls him.
    “Professional secret, my darling,” Stan says, hoping he sounds casual. “It’s like I thought, vascular damage. He’s lost the central vision in his left eye.”
    “Permanently?”
    “Yes. There’s nothing I can try. But it’ll be okay. Simon’s very brave. I told him to go and see Herzog, but you know what your brother’s like, he refused. Mind you, Herzog wouldn’t have said or done anything more.”
    Anna does not reply. Stan keeps his most cheerful voice, wanting to dispel her sadness: “Are you still going out this evening, darling? Are you going to Christiane’s?”
    “Yes. My parents are here. They’re going to keep an eye on the children at home.”
    “Are you going out on your own?”
    “With