The Choice

Part Two

Fifteen February 2007 Travis tried to shake free of thosememories from nearly eleven years ago,wondering why they’d resurfaced with suchclarity. Was it because he was now oldenough to realize how unusual it was to fallin love so quickly? Or simply because hemissed the intimacy of those days? He didn’tknow. Lately, it seemed he didn’t know a lot ofthings. There were people who claimed tohave all the answers, or at least the answersto the big questions of life, but Travis had

403/571never believed them. There was somethingabout the assurance with which they spokeor wrote that seemed self-justifying. But ifthere were one person who could answer anyquestion, Travis’s question would be this:How far should a person go in the name oftrue love? He could pose the question to a hundredpeople and get a hundred different answers.Most were obvious: A person should sacri-fice, or accept, or forgive, or even fight ifneed be . . . the list went on and on. Still,even though he knew that all these answerswere valid, none would help him now. Somethings were beyond understanding. Thinkingback, he recalled events he wished he couldchange, tears he wished had never beenshed, time that could have been better spent,and frustrations he should have shruggedoff. Life, it seemed, was full of regret, and heyearned to turn back the clock so he couldlive parts of his life over again. One thing

404/571was certain: He should have been a betterhusband. And as he considered the questionof how far a person should go in the name oflove, he knew what his answer would be. So-metimes it meant a person should lie. And soon, he had to make his choice as towhether he would.The fluorescent lights and white tile under-scored the sterility of the hospital. Travismoved slowly down the corridor, certain thateven though he’d spotted Gabby earlier, shehadn’t seen him. He hesitated, steeling him-self to head over and talk to her. It was thereason he’d come, after all, but the vividparade of memories earlier had drained him.He stopped, knowing a few more minutes tocollect his thoughts wouldn’t make anydifference. He ducked into a small reception roomand took a seat. Watching the steady,rhythmic movement in the corridor, he

405/571realized that despite the never-ending emer-gencies, the staff had a routine here, much ashe had his own routines at home. It was in-evitable for people to try to create a sense ofnormalcy in a place where nothing was nor-mal. It helped one get through the day, toadd predictability to a life that was inher-ently unpredictable. His mornings were acase in point, for every one was the same.Six-fifteen alarm; a minute to get out of bedand nine minutes in the shower, anotherfour minutes to shave and brush his teeth,and seven minutes to get dressed. A strangercould set a watch by following his shadowedmovements through his windows. After that,he’d hurry downstairs to pour cereal; he’dcheck backpacks for homework and makepeanut-butter-and-jelly sandwiches forlunches while his sleepy daughters ate theirbreakfast. At exactly quarter past seven,they’d troop out the door and he’d wait withthem at the end of the driveway for the

406/571school bus to arrive, driven by a man whoseScottish accent reminded him of Shrek. Afterhis daughters got on and settled into theirseats, he’d smile and wave, just as he wassupposed to. Lisa and Christine were six andeight, a bit young for first and third grade,and as he watched them venture out to startanother day, he often felt his heart clenchwith worry. Perhaps that was com-mon—people always said that parenting andworrying were synonymous—but recently hisworries had grown more pronounced. Hedwelled on things he never had before. Littlethings. Ridiculous things. Was Lisa laughingat cartoons as much as she used to? WasChristine more subdued than normal? Some-times, as the bus would pull away, he wouldfind himself replaying the morning over andover, searching for clues to their well-being.Yesterday he had spent half the day wonder-ing whether Lisa had been testing him bymaking him tie her shoes or whether she had

407/571just been feeling lazy. Even though he knewhe was bordering on obsession, when he’dcrept to their rooms last night to adjust theirstrewn-about blankets, he couldn’t stop him-self from wondering whether the nighttimerestlessness was new or something he’d justnever noticed before. It shouldn’t have been like this. Gabbyshould have been with him; Gabby shouldhave been the one tying shoes and adjustingthe blankets. She was good at things likethat, as he’d known she would be from thevery beginning. He remembered that in thedays that followed their first weekend to-gether, he would find himself studyingGabby, knowing on some deep level thateven if he spent the rest of his life looking,he’d never find a better mother or more per-fect complement to him. The realization of-ten hit in the strangest of places—whilepushing the cart in the fruit aisle of the gro-cery store or standing in line to buy movie

408/571tickets—but whenever it happened, it madesomething as simple as taking her hand anexquisite pleasure, something both moment-ous and gratifying. Their courtship hadn’t been quite as un-complicated for her. She was the one tornbetween two men vying for her love. “Aminor inconvenience,” was the way he de-scribed it at parties, but he often wonderedwhen exactly her feelings for him finallyoverwhelmed those she’d had for Kevin. Wasit when they sat beside each other, gazing atthe nighttime sky, and she quietly begannaming the constellations she recognized?Or was it the following day, when she heldhim tight as they rode on the motorcycle be-fore their picnic? Or was it later that evening,when he took her in his arms? He wasn’t sure; capturing a specific in-stant like that was no more possible than loc-ating a specific drop of water in the ocean.But the fact remained that it left Gabby to

409/571explain the situation to Kevin. Travis couldremember her pained expression on themorning she knew Kevin would be arrivingback in town. Gone was the certainty thathad guided them the previous days; in itsplace was the reality of what lay ahead forher. She barely touched her breakfast; whenhe kissed her good-bye, she responded withonly the flicker of a smile. The hours hadcrawled by without word, and Travis busiedhimself at work and made calls to find homesfor the puppies, knowing it was important toher. Eventually, after work, Travis went tocheck on Molly. As if sensing she’d be neededlater, she didn’t return to the garage after helet her out. Instead, she lay in the tall marshgrass that fronted Gabby’s property, staringtoward the street as the sun sank lower in thesky. It was well after dark when Gabby turnedin the drive. He remembered the steady wayshe looked at him as she stepped out of the

410/571car. Without a word, she took a seat besidehim on the steps. Molly wandered up andbegan to nuzzle her. Gabby ran her handrhythmically through her fur. “Hey,” he said, breaking the silence. “Hey.” Her voice sounded drained ofemotion. “I think I found homes for all of the pup-pies,” he offered. “Yeah?” He nodded, and the two of them sat to-gether without speaking, like two peoplewho’d run out of things to talk about. “I’m always going to love you,” he said,searching and failing to find adequate wordsto comfort her. “I believe you,” she whispered. Shelooped her arm through his and leaned herhead against his shoulder. “That’s why I’mhere.”

411/571Travis had never liked hospitals. Unlike theveterinary clinic, which closed its doorsaround dinnertime, Carteret General Hospit-al struck him as the endless turning of a Fer-ris wheel, with patients and employees hop-ping on and off every minute of every day.From where he was sitting, he could seenurses bustling in and out of rooms or clus-tering around the station at the end of thehall. Some were frazzled while others seemedbored; the doctors were no different. On oth-er floors, Travis knew that mothers were giv-ing birth and the elderly were passing away,a microcosm of the world. As oppressive ashe found it, Gabby had thrived working here,energized by the steady buzz of activity. There’d been a letter in the mailboxmonths earlier, something from the adminis-trator’s office announcing that the hospitalplanned to honor Gabby’s tenth year workingat the hospital. The letter didn’t allude toanything specific that Gabby had

412/571accomplished; it was nothing more than aform letter, something no doubt sent out to adozen other people who’d started workingaround the same time she had. A smallplaque, the letter promised, would be hungin Gabby’s honor in one of the corridors,along with other recipients’, though as yet ithadn’t happened. He doubted that she cared. Gabby hadtaken the job at the hospital not because shemight one day receive a plaque, but becauseshe’d felt she hadn’t much choice. Thoughshe had alluded to some problems at the pe-diatrician’s office during their first weekendtogether, she hadn’t been specific. He’d letthe comment pass without pressing her, buthe knew even then that the problem wasn’tsimply going to go away. Eventually, she told him about it. It wasthe end of a long day. He’d been called outthe previous night to the equestrian center,where he found an Arabian sweating and

413/571pawing the ground, its stomach tender to thetouch. Classic signs of equine colic, thoughwith a bit of luck, he didn’t think it would re-quire surgery. Still, with the owners in theirseventies, Travis wasn’t comfortable askingthem to walk the horse for fifteen minutesevery hour, in case the horse became moreagitated or took a turn for the worse. In-stead, he decided to stay with the horse him-self, and though the horse gradually im-proved as the day rolled on into the nextevening, he was exhausted by the time heleft. He arrived home, sweaty and filthy, tofind Gabby crying at her kitchen table. Ittook a few minutes before she was able to tellhim the story—how she’d had to stay latewith a patient who was waiting for an ambu-lance for what she was fairly certain was ap-pendicitis; by the time she was able to leave,most of the staff had gone home. The attend-ing physician, Adrian Melton, had not. They

414/571left together, and Gabby didn’t realize thatMelton was walking with her toward her caruntil it was too late. There, he laid a hand onher shoulder and told her that he was head-ing to the hospital and would update her onthe patient’s condition. When she forced asmile, however, he leaned in to kiss her. It was a clumsy effort, reminiscent ofhigh school, and she recoiled before he couldfinish. He stared at her, seemingly put out. “Ithought this was what you wanted,” he’dsaid. At the table, Gabby shuddered. “He madeit sound like it was my fault.” “Has it happened before?” “No, not like this. But . . .” When she trailed off, Travis reached overand took her hand. “Come on,” he said. “It’sme. Talk to me.” Her gaze remained focused on the surfaceof the table, but her voice was steady as sherecounted the history of Melton’s behavior.

415/571By the time she finished, his face was tightwith barely suppressed rage. “I’ll fix this,” he said without waiting for aresponse. It took two phone calls to find out whereAdrian Melton lived. Within minutes, his carscreeched to a stop in front of Melton’shouse. His insistent finger on the doorbellbrought the doctor to the front door. Meltonbarely registered his puzzlement beforeTravis’s fist crashed into his jaw. A womanTravis assumed was Melton’s wife material-ized the same instant Melton hit the floor,and her screams echoed in the hallway. When the police arrived at the house,Travis was arrested for the first and onlytime in his life. He was brought to the sta-tion, where most of the officers treated himwith amused respect. Every one of them hadbrought their pets to the clinic and wereclearly skeptical of Mrs. Melton’s claim that“some psycho has assaulted my husband!”

416/571 When Travis called his sister, Stephanieshowed up looking less worried thanamused. She found Travis sitting in a singlecell, deep in discussion with the sheriff; asshe approached, he realized they were talk-ing about the sheriff’s cat, who seemed tohave developed a rash of some sort andcouldn’t stop scratching. “Bummer,” she said. “What?” “And here I thought I was going to findyou wearing an orange jumper.” “Sorry to disappoint you.” “Maybe there’s still time. What do youthink, Sheriff?” The sheriff didn’t know what to think,and a moment later, he left them alone. “Thanks for that,” Travis said once thesheriff was gone. “He’s probably consideringyour suggestion.” “Don’t blame me. I’m not the one attack-ing doctors on doorsteps.”

417/571 “He deserved it.” “I’m sure he did.” Travis smiled. “Thanks for coming.” “I wouldn’t have missed it, Rocky. Orwould you prefer I call you Apollo Creed?” “How about you work on getting me outof here instead of trying to come up withnicknames?” “Coming up with nicknames is more fun.” “Maybe I should have called Dad.” “But you didn’t. You got me. And trustme, you made the right choice. Now let mego talk to the sheriff, okay?” Later, while Stephanie was talking to thesheriff, Adrian Melton visited Travis. He’dnever met the local veterinarian and deman-ded to know the reason for Travis’s assault.Though he never told Gabby what he said,Adrian Melton promptly dropped thecharges, despite protests from Mrs. Melton.Within a few days, Travis heard through thesmall-town grapevine that Dr. and Mrs.

418/571Melton were in counseling. Nonetheless, theworkplace remained tense for Gabby, and afew weeks later, Dr. Furman called Gabby in-to the office and suggested that she considertrying to find another place to work. “I know it’s not fair,” he said. “And if youstay, we’ll somehow make it work. But I’msixty-four, and I’m planning to retire nextyear. Dr. Melton has agreed to buy me out,and I doubt that he’ll want to keep you onanyway, or that you’d want to work for him. Ithink it would be easier and better for you ifyou take the time to find a place where you’recomfortable and simply put this awful thingbehind you.” He shrugged. “I’m not sayingthat his behavior wasn’t reprehensible; itwas. But even if he’s a jerk, he’s the best pe-diatrician I interviewed and the only onewho was willing to practice in a small townlike this. If you leave voluntarily, I’ll writethe finest recommendation you can imagine.

419/571You’ll be able to get a job anywhere. I’ll makesure of it.” She recognized the manipulation for whatit was, and while her emotions cried out forretribution on her behalf and that of sexuallyharassed women everywhere, her pragmaticside asserted itself. In the end, she took a jobin the emergency room at the hospital. There had been only one problem: WhenGabby found out what Travis had done, she’dbeen furious. It was the first argument theyhad as a couple, and Travis could still re-member her outrage when she demanded toknow whether he believed she was “grown-up enough to handle her own problems” andwhy he acted “as if she were some silly dam-sel in distress.” Travis didn’t bother trying todefend himself. In his heart, he knew he’d dothe same thing again in an instant, but hewisely kept his mouth shut. For all Gabby’s outrage, Travis suspectedthere was part of her that had admired what

420/571he’d done. The simple logic of the act—Hebothered you? Let me at ’im—had appealedto her, no matter how angry she’d appeared,for later that night her lovemaking hadseemed particularly passionate. Or at least, that’s the way Travis re-membered it. Had the evening unfolded ex-actly like that? He wasn’t sure. These days, itseemed that the only thing he was certainabout was the knowledge that he wouldn’ttrade his years with Gabby for anything.Without her, his life had little meaning. Hewas a small-town husband with a small-townoccupation and his cares were no differentfrom anyone else’s. He’d been neither a lead-er nor a follower, nor had he been someonewho would be remembered long after hepassed away. He was the most ordinary ofmen with only one exception: He’d fallen inlove with a woman named Gabby, his lovedeepening in the years they’d been married.But fate had conspired to ruin all that, and

421/571now he spent long portions of his days won-dering whether it was humanly possible tofix things between them.

Sixteen Hey, Travis,” said a voice from thedoorway. “I thought I’d find you in here.” Dr. Stallings was in his thirties and maderounds every morning. Over the years, heand his wife had become good friends ofGabby and Travis’s, and last summer thefour of them had traveled to Orlando withkids in tow. “More flowers?” Travis nodded, feeling the stiffness in hisback. Stallings hesitated on the threshold of theroom. “I take it you haven’t seen her yet.” “Kind of. I saw her earlier, but . . .”

423/571 When he trailed off, Stallings finished forhim. “You needed some time alone?” Heentered and took a seat beside Travis. “Iguess that makes you normal.” “I don’t feel normal. Nothing about thisfeels normal at all.” “No, I don’t suppose it does.” Travis reached for the flowers again, try-ing to keep his thoughts at bay, knowingthere were some things he couldn’t talkabout. “I don’t know what to do,” he finallyadmitted. Stallings put his hand on Travis’sshoulder. “I wish I knew what to tell you.” Travis turned toward him. “What wouldyou do?” Stallings remained silent for a long mo-ment. “If I were in your position?” Hebrought his lips together, considering thequestions, looking older than his years. “Inall honesty, I don’t know.”

424/571 Travis nodded. He hadn’t expectedStallings to answer. “I just want to do theright thing.” Stallings brought his hands together.“Don’t we all.”When Stallings left, Travis shifted in his seat,conscious of the papers in his pocket. Whereonce he’d kept them in his desk, he nowfound it impossible to go about his daily lifewithout them nearby, even though they por-tended the end of everything he held dear. The elderly attorney who drafted themseemed to find nothing unusual about theirrequest. His small-town family law practicehad been located in Morehead City, closeenough to the hospital where Gabby workedto be able to see it from the windows of thepaneled walls of the conference room. Themeeting hadn’t lasted long; the lawyer ex-plained the relevant statutes and offered afew anecdotal experiences; later Travis could

425/571remember only the loose, almost weak wayhe had grasped Travis’s hand on his way outthe door. It seemed strange that those papers couldsignal the official end of his marriage. Theywere codified words, nothing more, but thepower afforded them now seemed almostmalevolent. Where, he wondered, was thehumanity in those phrases? Where was theemotion governed by these laws? Where wasthe acknowledgment of the life they’d led to-gether, until everything went wrong? Andwhy in God’s name had Gabby wanted themdrawn up in the first place? It shouldn’t end like this, and it was cer-tainly not an outcome he foresaw when he’dproposed to Gabby. He remembered theirautumn trip to New York; while Gabby hadbeen at the hotel spa getting a massage and apedicure, he’d sneaked over to West 47thStreet, where he’d purchased the engage-ment ring. After dining at Tavern on the

426/571Green, they’d taken a carriage ride throughCentral Park. And beneath a cloudy, full-moon sky, he’d asked for her hand in mar-riage and was overcome by the passionateway she’d wrapped her arms around himwhile whispering her consent over and over. And then? Life, he supposed. In betweenher shifts at the hospital, she planned thewedding: Despite his friends’ warnings tosimply go with the flow, Travis relished beingpart of the process. He helped her pick outthe invitations, the flowers, and the cake; hesat beside her as she flipped through albumsin downtown studios, hoping to find theright photographer to memorialize the day.In the end, they invited eighty people to asmall, weathered chapel on Cumberland Is-land in spring 1997; they honeymooned inCancún, which ended up being an idyllicchoice for both of them. Gabby wantedsomeplace relaxing, and they spent hours ly-ing in the sun and eating well; he wanted a

427/571bit more adventure, so she learned to scubadive and joined him on a day trip to see thenearby Aztec ruins. The give-and-take of the honeymoon setthe tone for the marriage. Their dream housewas constructed with little stress and wascompleted by their first anniversary; whenGabby ran her finger over the rim of herglass of champagne and wondered aloudwhether they should start a family, the ideastruck him as not only reasonable, butsomething he desperately wanted. She waspregnant within a couple of months, herpregnancy devoid of complications or evenmuch discomfort. After Christine was born,Gabby cut back on her hours and theyworked out a schedule that ensured one ofthem was always home with the baby. WhenLisa followed two years later, neither of themnoticed much of a change, other than addedjoy and excitement in the house.

428/571 Christmases and birthdays came andwent, the kids grew out of one outfit only tobe replaced by the next. They vacationed as afamily, yet Travis and Gabby also spent timealone, keeping the flame of romance alivebetween them. Max eventually retired, leav-ing Travis to take over the clinic; Gabby lim-ited her hours even more and had enoughtime to volunteer at school. On their fourthanniversary, they went to Italy and Greece;for their sixth, they spent a week on safari inAfrica. On their seventh, Travis built Gabby agazebo in the backyard, where she could sitand read and watch the play of light reflect-ing on the water. He taught his daughters towakeboard and ski when each was five yearsold; he coached their soccer teams in the fall.On the rare occasions when he stopped to re-flect on his life, he wondered if anyone in theworld felt as blessed as he did. Not that things were always perfect.Years ago, he and Gabby had gone through a

429/571rough patch. The reasons were fuzzy now,lost in the recesses of time, but even then,there had never been a point when he trulybelieved their marriage to be in jeopardy.Nor, he suspected, had she. Marriage, eachof them realized intuitively, was about com-promise and forgiveness. It was about bal-ance, where one person complemented theother. He and Gabby had that for years, andhe hoped they could have it again. But rightnow they didn’t, and the realization left himwishing there was something, anything, hecould do to restore that delicate balancebetween them.Travis knew he couldn’t postpone seeing herany longer, and he rose from his seat. Hold-ing the flowers, he started down the corridor,feeling almost disembodied. He saw a fewnurses glance at him, and though he some-times wondered what they thought, he neverstopped to ask. Instead, he summoned his

430/571nerve. His legs were shaky, and he could feelthe beginning of a headache, a dull throb atthe back of his head. If he allowed himself toclose his eyes, he felt sure he would sleep forhours. He was falling apart, a thought thatmade about as much sense as a square golfball. He was forty-three, not seventy-two,and though he hadn’t been eating muchlately, he still forced himself to go to thegym. “You’ve got to keep exercising,” his dadhad urged. “If only for your own sanity.”He’d lost eighteen pounds in the last twelveweeks, and in the mirror he could see thathis cheeks had hollowed out. He reached thedoor and pushed it open, forcing himself tosmile as he saw her. “Hi, sweetheart.” He waited for her to stir, waited for anyresponse to let him know that things weresomehow returning to normal. But nothinghappened, and in the long, empty silencethat followed, Travis felt an ache like a

431/571physical pain in his heart. It was always likethis. Stepping into the room, he continued tostare at Gabby as if trying to memorize herevery feature, though he knew it was a point-less exercise. He knew her face better thanhis own. At the window, he opened the blinds, al-lowing sunlight to spill across the floor.There wasn’t much of a view; the room over-looked a small highway that bisected thetown. Slow-moving cars drifted past fast-food restaurants, and he could imagine thedrivers listening to music on the radio, orchatting on cell phones, or heading to work,or making deliveries, or running errands, orgoing to visit friends. People going abouttheir daily lives, people lost in their own con-cerns, all of them oblivious to what was go-ing on in the hospital. He had once been oneof them, and he felt the loss of his previouslife.

432/571 He set the flowers on the sill, wishing hehad remembered to bring a vase. He hadchosen a winter bouquet, and the burnt or-ange and violet colors seemed muted, almostmournful. The florist considered himself anartist of sorts, and in all the years Travis hadused him, he’d never been disappointed. Theflorist was a good man, a kind man, andsometimes Travis wondered how much theflorist knew about their marriage. Over theyears, Travis had purchased bouquets on an-niversaries and birthdays; he’d purchasedthem as apologies or on the spur of the mo-ment, as a romantic surprise. And each time,he’d dictated to the florist what he wantedwritten on the card. Sometimes he’d reciteda poem he’d either found in a book or writtenon his own; at other times, he’d comestraight to the point and simply said whatwas on his mind. Gabby had saved thesecards in a tiny bundle held together by a rub-ber band. They were a kind of history of

433/571Travis and Gabby’s life together, described intiny snippets. He took a seat in the chair by the bed andreached for her hand. Her skin was pale, al-most waxy, her body seemed smaller, and henoted the spidery lines that had begun toform at the corners of her eyes. Still, she wasas remarkable to him as she had been thefirst time he’d ever seen her. It amazed himthat he’d known her almost eleven years. Notbecause the length of time was extraordin-ary, but because those years seemed to con-tain more . . . life than the first thirty-twoyears without her. It was the reason he’dcome to the hospital today; it was the reasonhe came every day. He had no other choice.Not because it was expected—though itwas—but because he couldn’t imagine beinganywhere else. They spent hours together,but their nights were spent apart. Ironically,there was no choice in that, either, for he

434/571couldn’t leave his daughters alone. Thesedays, fate made all his decisions for him. Except for one. Eighty-four days had passed since the ac-cident, and now he had to make a choice. Hestill had no idea what to do. Lately he’d beensearching for answers in the Bible and in thewritings of Aquinas and Augustine. Occa-sionally he would find a striking passage, butnothing more than that; he would close thecover of the book and find himself staringout the window, his thoughts blank, as ifhoping to find the solution somewhere in thesky. He seldom drove straight home from thehospital. Instead, he would drive across thebridge and walk the sands of Atlantic Beach.He would slip off his shoes, listening as thewaves crashed along the shore. He knew hisdaughters were as upset as he was, and afterhis visits to the hospital, he needed time tocompose himself. It would be unfair to

435/571subject them to his angst. He needed hisdaughters for the escape they afforded him.When focusing on them, he didn’t focus onhimself, and their joy still held an unadulter-ated purity. They still had the ability to losethemselves in play, and the sound of theirgiggling made him want to laugh and cry atthe same time. Sometimes as he watchedthem, he was struck by how much they re-sembled their mother. Always they asked about her, but usuallyhe didn’t know what to tell them. They weremature enough to understand that Mommywasn’t well and had to stay in the hospital;they understood that when they visited, itwould seem as if Mommy were asleep. Buthe couldn’t bring himself to tell them thetruth about her condition. Instead, he wouldcuddle with them on the couch and tell themhow excited Gabby had been when she’dbeen pregnant with each of them or remindthem about the time the family played in the

436/571sprinklers for an entire afternoon. Mostly,though, they would thumb through the photoalbums Gabby had assembled with care. Shewas old-fashioned that way, and the picturesnever ceased to bring a smile to their faces.Travis would tell stories associated witheach, and as he stared at Gabby’s radiantface in the photos, his throat would tightenat the knowledge that he’d never seen any-one more beautiful. To escape the sadness that overtook himin such moments, he would sometimes raisehis eyes from the album and focus on thelarge, framed photograph they’d had taken atthe beach last summer. All four of them hadworn beige khakis and white button-downoxfords, and they were seated amid the dunegrass. It was the kind of family portrait com-mon in Beaufort, yet it somehow struck himas entirely unique. Not because it was hisfamily, but because he was certain that evena stranger would find himself filled with

437/571hope and optimism at the sight, for thepeople in the photo looked the way a happyfamily should. Later, after the girls had gone to bed, hewould put away the albums. It was one thingto look at them with his daughters and tellstories in an attempt to keep their spirits up,it was another thing to gaze at them alone.He couldn’t do that. Instead, he would sitalone on the couch, weighed down by thesadness he felt inside. Sometimes Stephaniewould call. Their conversations were filledwith their usual banter but it was somehowstilted at the same time, for he knew shewanted him to forgive himself. Despite hersometimes flippant remarks and her occa-sional teasing, he knew what she was reallysaying: that no one blamed him, that itwasn’t his fault. That she and others wereworried about him. To head off her reassur-ances, he’d always say that he was doing fine,even when he wasn’t, for the truth was

438/571something he knew she didn’t want to hear:that not only did he doubt he’d ever be fineagain, but he wasn’t even sure he everwanted to be.

Seventeen Warm bands of sunlight continuedto stretch toward them. In the silence, Travissqueezed Gabby’s hand and winced at thepain in his wrist. It had been in a cast until amonth ago, and the doctors had prescribedpainkillers. The bones in his arms had frac-tured and his ligaments had torn in half, butafter his first dose, he’d refused to take thepainkillers, hating the woozy way they madehim feel. Her hand was as soft as always. Mostdays he would hold it for hours, imaginingwhat he would do if she squeezed his in

440/571return. He sat and watched her, wonderingwhat she was thinking or if she was thinkingat all. The world inside her was a mystery. “The girls are good,” he began. “Christinefinished her Lucky Charms at breakfast, andLisa was close. I know you worry about howmuch they eat, since they’re on the smallside, but they’ve been pretty good about nib-bling on the snacks I put out after school.” Outside the window, a pigeon landed onthe sill. It walked a few steps one way, thenback again, before finally settling in place asit did on most days. It seemed, somehow, toknow when it was time for Travis to visit.There were times he believed it was an omenof sorts, though of what, he had no idea. “We do homework after dinner. I knowyou like to do it right after school, but thisseems to be working out okay. You’d be ex-cited at how well Christine is doing in math.Remember at the beginning of the year whenshe didn’t seem to understand it at all? She’s

441/571really turned it around. We’ve been usingthose flash cards you bought pretty muchevery night, and she didn’t miss a singlequestion on her latest test. She’s even doingher homework without me having to walkher through it. You’d be proud of her.” The sound of the cooing pigeon wasbarely audible through the glass. “And Lisa’s doing well. We watch eitherDora the Explorer or Barbie every night. It’scrazy how many times she can watch thesame DVDs, but she loves them. And for herbirthday, she wants a princess theme. I wasthinking about getting an ice-cream cake, butshe wants to have her party at the park, andI’m not sure they’d get to the cake before itmelts, so I’ll probably have to get somethingelse.” He cleared his throat. “Oh, did I tell you that Joe and Megan arethinking of having another kid? I know, Iknow—it’s crazy considering how many

442/571problems she had with the last pregnancyand the fact that she’s already in her forties,but according to Joe, she really wants to tryfor a little boy. Me? I think Joe’s the one whowants a son and Megan’s just going alongwith it, but with those two, you never reallyknow, do you.” Travis forced himself to sound conversa-tional. Since she’d been here, he’d been try-ing to act as naturally as he could aroundher. Because they talked incessantly aboutthe kids before the accident, because theydiscussed what was happening in theirfriends’ lives, he always tried to talk aboutthem when he visited her. He had no ideawhether she heard him; the medical com-munity seemed divided on that. Some sworethat coma patients could hear—and possiblyremember—conversations; others said justthe opposite. Travis didn’t know whom to be-lieve, but he chose to live his days on the sideof the optimists.

443/571 For that same reason, after glancing athis watch, he reached for the remote. In herstolen moments when she hadn’t been work-ing, Gabby’s guilty pleasure was watchingJudge Judy on television, and Travis had al-ways teased her about the way she took analmost perverse delight in the antics of thoseunfortunate enough to find themselves inJudge Judy’s courtroom. “Let me turn on the television, okay?Your show’s on. I think we can catch the lastcouple of minutes.” A moment later, Judge Judy was speak-ing over both the defendant and the plaintiff,just to get them to shut up, which seemed tobe the predictable, recurring theme of theshow. “She’s in rare form, huh?” When the show was over, he turned it off.He thought about moving the flowers closer,in the hope that she would smell them. Hewanted to keep her senses stimulated.

444/571Yesterday, he’d spent some time brushingher hair; the day before, he’d brought insome of her perfume and added a dab toeach wrist. Today, however, doing any ofthose things seemed to take more effort thanhe could summon. “Other than that, not much new is goingon,” he said with a sigh. The words soundedas meaningless to him as they no doubt didto her. “My dad’s still covering for me at theclinic. You’d be amazed at how well he doeswith the animals, considering how long agohe retired. It’s like he never left. People stilladore him, and I think he’s happy beingthere. If you ask me, he never should havestopped working in the first place.” He heard a knock at the door and sawGretchen walk in. In the past month, he’dcome to depend on her. Unlike the othernurses, she maintained an undying faith thatGabby would emerge from all of this just fine

445/571and consequently treated Gabby as if shewere conscious. “Hey, Travis,” she chirped. “Sorry for in-terrupting, but I’ve got to hook up a new IV.” When Travis nodded, she approachedGabby. “I’ll bet you’re starving, honey,” shesaid. “Just give me a second, okay? Then I’llgive you and Travis your alone time. Youknow how I am about interrupting twolovebirds.” She worked quickly, removing one IV bagand replacing it with another, all the whilekeeping up a steady stream of conversation.“I know you’re sore from your workout thismorning. We really went at it, didn’t we? Wewere like those folks you see on those in-fomercials. Working this, working that. I wasreally proud of you.” Every morning and again in the evening,one of the nurses came in to flex and stretchGabby’s limbs. Bend the knee, straighten itout; flex the foot up, then push it down. They

446/571did this for every joint and muscle in Gabby’sbody. After she finished hanging the bag,Gretchen checked the flow and adjusted thesheets, then turned to Travis. “Are you doing okay today?” “I don’t know,” he said. Gretchen seemed sorry she’d asked. “I’mglad you brought flowers,” she said, noddingin the direction of the windowsill. “I’m sureGabby appreciates it.” “I hope so.” “Are you going to bring in the girls?” Travis swallowed through the lump in histhroat. “Not today.” Gretchen pursed her lips and nodded. Amoment later, she was gone.Twelve weeks ago, Gabby was rolled into theemergency room on a gurney, unconsciousand bleeding heavily from a gash on hershoulder. The physicians concentrated first

447/571on the gash because of the heavy blood loss,though in retrospect, Travis wonderedwhether a different approach would havechanged things. He didn’t know, nor would he ever. LikeGabby, he’d been rolled into the emergencyroom; like Gabby, he’d spent the night un-conscious. But there the similarities hadended. The following day, he woke up in painwith a mangled arm, while Gabby neverwoke up at all. The doctors were kind, but they didn’t tryto conceal their concern. Brain injuries werealways serious, they said, but they werehopeful the injury would heal and that allwould be well in time. In time. He sometimes wondered whether doctorsrealized the emotional intensity of time, orwhat he was going through, or even that timewas something finite. He doubted it. No oneknew what he was going through or really

448/571understood the choice that lay before him.On the surface, it was simple. He would doexactly what Gabby wanted, exactly as she’dmade him promise. But what if . . . And that was the thing. He had thoughtlong and hard about the reality of the situ-ation; he had stayed awake nights consider-ing the question. He wondered again whatlove really meant. And in the darkness, hewould toss and turn, wishing for someoneelse to make the choice for him. But hewrestled with it alone, and more often thannot, he’d wake in the morning with a tear-drenched pillow in the place Gabby shouldhave been. And the first words out of hismouth were always the same. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart.”The choice Travis now had to make had itsroots in two distinct events. The first eventrelated to a couple named Kenneth and

449/571Eleanor Baker. The second event, the acci-dent itself, had occurred on a rainy, windynight twelve weeks ago. The accident was simple to explain andwas similar to many accidents in that a seriesof isolated and seemingly inconsequentialmistakes somehow came together and ex-ploded in the most horrific of ways. In mid-November, they’d driven to the RBC Centerin Raleigh to see David Copperfield performonstage. Over the years, they’d usually seenone or two shows a year, if only to have anexcuse to get away for an evening alone. Usu-ally they had dinner beforehand, but thatnight they didn’t. Travis was running late atthe clinic, they got a late start out ofBeaufort, and by the time they parked thecar, the show was only minutes from begin-ning. In his haste, Travis forgot his umbrella,despite the ominous clouds and buildingwind. That was mistake number one.

450/571 They watched the show and enjoyed it,but the weather had deteriorated by the timethey’d left the theater. Rain was pouringdown hard, and Travis remembered standingwith Gabby, wondering how best to get totheir car. They happened to bump intofriends who’d also seen the show, and Jeffoffered to walk Travis to his car so hewouldn’t get wet. But Travis didn’t want himto have to go out of his way and declinedJeff’s offer. Instead, he bolted into the rain,splashing through ankle-deep puddles on theway to his car. He was soaked to the bone bythe time he crawled in, especially his feet.That was mistake number two. Because it was late, and because theyboth had to work the following morning,Travis drove fast despite the wind and rain,trying to save a few minutes in a drive thatnormally took two and a half hours. Thoughit was difficult to see through the windshield,he drove in the passing lane, pushing past