As Adam approached the door, he heard muffled sobs coming from inside.
He peeked through the small glass window above the door.
Sure enough, there was Bill, his head turned into the pillow, his body trembling as he cried.
"Man…" Adam sighed to himself.
He stood outside for a good ten minutes, waiting until Bill's crying finally stopped.
Only then did Adam push the door open and step inside.
"Dr. Duncan," Bill said, wiping the tears from the corners of his eyes and forcing a smile as a greeting.
"You holding up okay?" Adam asked gently. "You just had surgery, so take it easy. Don't want to risk reopening that wound."
"Thanks, Doc. I know," Bill replied, managing another shaky smile.
"Want me to get Dr. Burke over here?" Adam hesitated. "Maybe you'd like to talk things out with him?"
"Preston's already been by," Bill said, squeezing out a grin. "I'm fine. Just need some time to heal—same as this wound."
As he spoke, he touched the spot where they'd cut him open and stitched him back up.
"If you need anything, just have the nurse call me," Adam said with a nod. He started to leave but paused at the door and turned back.
"What's up, Dr. Duncan?" Bill asked, looking at him.
"There's something I probably shouldn't say…" Adam stood by the bed, mulling it over. "But I'm gonna anyway. Try to keep an open mind. Sometimes the truth really does matter."
As Bill's attending doctor, Adam didn't want him spiraling into grief and risking his recovery. If that wound reopened, no matter the reason, Adam would feel like he'd dropped the ball. Sure, he didn't love getting tangled up in patients' personal drama, but for the sake of nailing this case, he figured he'd make an exception and give Bill a little emotional nudge.
"Thanks, Dr. Duncan," Bill said, caught off guard for a second before smiling. "I get it. Preston's my buddy and my doctor. He told me the truth because he's looking out for me."
"Want to hear a real story?" Adam asked, pulling up a chair and sitting down.
"Sure," Bill said, happy to go along.
Even though he was hurting inside, he didn't take it out on anyone. Guy had some real class—that's one big reason Adam was willing to go the extra mile here.
"There was this young couple, barely twenty," Adam began slowly. "Husband was white, wife was Black. Childhood sweethearts. But the husband's dad was dead-set against them—so much so that he'd yell and hit him over it. They ran away from home young, stuck together through thick and thin, and got married early."
"They must've really loved each other," Bill murmured.
"Yeah," Adam nodded. "The kind of love where you'd die for each other. One day, they're eating at a restaurant when some robbers bust in. Not only do these guys want money, but one of them sets his sights on the wife. Even with a gun to his head, watching this creep try to mess with her, the husband steps up—though she stops him."
"What happened next?" Bill asked.
"Well, the guy trying to get at her suddenly starts feeling sick, coughing like crazy," Adam went on. "The husband sees the other robber get distracted, so he knocks one out cold, tackles the creep going after his wife, and just lays into him. But then his wife collapses, clutching her throat, gasping for air."
"The coughing guy had something contagious?" Bill guessed.
"That's what everyone thought," Adam said. "The husband loved her so much that, even though they were dirt poor and usually wouldn't dream of calling an ambulance, he didn't stop people from dialing one this time. It wasn't like a broken leg or something…"
Bill couldn't help but chuckle. He caught the sarcasm in Adam's tone. Growing up Black in the projects, he totally got where the young husband was coming from.
Back in school, a kid in his class broke his leg once. A rich classmate offered to call an ambulance for him, but the kid freaked out when he heard that. After figuring out what was up, he shouted, "I'm fine! I'm fine! Don't call an ambulance!" A single ride could cost a grand—gone in a flash. Forget poor families; even middle-class folks would think twice. Same deal with fire trucks—$700 a pop, usually two or more showing up. Sometimes you'd hear about a house on fire, fire trucks rolling in, and the owner just standing there with the firefighters, watching it burn. Why? If the house is gone, it's gone. But putting out the fire? That bill's too steep to pay. Might as well let it burn out.
"When they got to the hospital, they couldn't figure out what was wrong with her at first," Adam said, getting back to the story. "She was critical for a while. To find out what she had, the husband—who started showing the same symptoms but wasn't as bad off—gave up his own treatment. He let his condition get worse, enduring insane pain, letting doctors biopsy his brain and test drugs on him, all to give them a shot at saving her."
"That's real love…" Bill said, floored.
"Yeah," Adam agreed. "And it paid off. Right before she died, they figured it out: hereditary angioedema, a super rare genetic disorder. Treatable, thankfully."
"That's good—wait, hold up," Bill said, relieved at first, then frowning. "You said the husband had the same symptoms. Isn't that a rare genetic thing? Unless…"
"Remember how I said his dad was dead against them being together, to the point they ran away?" Adam said. "When the hospital reached out to the dad, they found out he'd killed himself."
"But he's white, she's Black?" Bill muttered. "Mixed, maybe?"
"She was mixed—light-skinned," Adam said flatly. "Blonde hair, blue eyes, just like him. Turns out they were half-siblings. His dad had an affair with her mom next door but never told them."
Bill froze. He finally got why Adam was telling him this story.
"What happened after that?" he asked.
"After that, the love was gone—just endless pain," Adam sighed. "She couldn't even look at him anymore; it made her sick. He was terrified their kid—if they had one—might be deformed. Even if they split up, that kind of pain sticks with you forever. That's why I say the truth matters. You can't mess around with bloodlines."
"I get it," Bill murmured. "You're right. The truth really does matter."
Adam studied him for a moment. Seeing the shock but no more gloom in Bill's eyes, he felt relieved. He decided against telling another wild story he had up his sleeve.
Feed the author—vote now or the story starves 😭"
Want 2 chapters a day? You know what to do!
Request your favorite story too!
Pat-reon: belamy20