Uncovering You 10: The Finale (30 page)

But that just spurs me to prove him wrong.

Shit
, I think in a moment of rare reflection,
maybe that’s his real purpose acting this way. He’s certainly shrewd enough to do it.

“I’m going to do it,” I tell him. “This Friday, I’m going to do it, and we’ll move past this stain on our lives for good. Don’t you trust me?”

Jeremy crosses his arms and sets his jaw. But when he speaks, his voice is soft. “Of course I do,” he says.

“And we’ll get married the week after,” I tell him firmly. “So set your mind to planning that, instead of second guessing my decision here.” As I lie back down, I catch the beginning of a smirk flitter across his face. I look up at Dr. Telfair and extend my arm. “Strap me in, doc.”

Determined to prove Jeremy wrong becomes my biggest motivation. He never liked seeing me weak before. Now, after having put enough time and space between me and the horrifying past, I’m ready to embrace the strong woman I had been once again.

I’ve had my share of care and coddling in Italy.

The second attempt goes much better. Only when the final strap over my forehead goes in place does my breathing become labored again. Panic threatens to overcome me.

I grit my teeth and try to will it away. But Dr. Telfair recognizes the physical signs of distress. He signals for me to be let go.

When I am free, I stand and do a quick circle of the room, deep in thought. Determination to make the third time work pulses through me. I catch Jeremy’s brother’s eye. In the most subtle of nods, I give him my thanks for releasing me before I was forced to call for it myself—and admit my weakness to Jeremy.

Things go without a hitch the third time. As I lie prone, helpless, and unable to move staring up at the white ceiling, I feel a strange calm wash over me.

I can do this
, I think.
I can prove to Jeremy I’m strong and emerge from this nightmare forever.
If this is the worst I have to face…? I almost laugh. This is
nothing
compared to what I’ve overcome before.

After a stretch of ten long silent minutes, Dr. Telfair moves to release me.

“No,” I say. My eyes flash to the top of my head, toward the gaping entrance of the MRI machine looming behind me. “I’m ready. Put me in.”

Jeremy is at my side in an instant. “Lilly,” he says. “Don’t be stubborn. We’ve gone through enough today. Tomorrow, after you’ve rested we’ll come back here and taken the next step.

I try to shake my head—realize that I can’t—and almost give way to irrational fear. But after a frightening moment, the black tide washes away, and all is clear.

Seeing Jeremy’s face helped with that.

“I’m ready,” I say. “I’ll prove it to you. Dr. Telfair? Unless you object?”

“If that’s what you want,” he says. “Remember. If you start to panic, we can pull you out. You’re in control.”

“Then I want to go in.”

He nods and backs away. Jeremy fades from view, too, as the mechanism to carry me back seals up. A whirring sound fills my ears. I close my eyes.

I open them when the bed stops moving. I’m inside a big, hollow tube. I look around me. It’s a little dark. Most of the light comes from the opening at my waist. If I strain my eyes and look down, I can see out of the machine and into the room.

This isn’t bad at all,
I think.

“Lilly?” Dr. Telfair’s voice. “Would you like me to turn the machine on?”

I take a deep breath, deliberate it for a second, then reach out. “Yes. Do it.”

A firm grip comes over my arm. I don’t need to see to know who it belongs to. The warmth and electricity running up my arm at that sure touch is enough to tell me it’s Jeremy’s

Knowing that he’s there beside me, standing by and giving his support, is enough to make the next part absolutely painless.

The next day, we return to the operating room and run through the test run again. I’m strapped in and moved into the machine. It turns on. I keep my breathing calm and steady and do not move.

When I emerge, Dr. Telfair is ecstatic. “Do that on Friday,” he beams, “And there won’t be a hitch.”

We repeat the test run three times that day, and the day after, and the day after. In fact, it becomes so routine and ordinary that, when the day of the operation comes, I’m hit by surprise that it’s finally real.

“Just like every time before,” Dr. Telfair says. Jeremy gives me a tight hug outside the room. “I’ll be waiting,” he whispers.

I smile up at him. “I love you,” I say.

He smiles back. “I love you, too. Oh and I, uh, retrieved this.” He takes out a small black box and opens it. Inside is the beautiful broach he made me wear on my first trip off his property. “As a token of good luck. For after.”

“It’ll be waiting for you,” he promises, as the nurse leads him away, “on your safe return.”

“Don’t count on anything less,” I tell him.

Inside the freshly-sterilized room, I change into the hospital gown I have to wear. Dr. Telfair comes out dressed in a light green surgical outfit.

“Ready?” he asks.

“I’ve been ready for days,” I tell him. “Let’s do it.”

“You know what’s going to happen,” he tells me. “But it’s worth repeating.” And then he goes through the entire procedure again, from start to finish, with such painstaking detail that I’m afraid any more talk will only heighten my anxiety.

Finally, I lie on the bed and am strapped in. A small patch of hair is shaved from my skull, right where the catheter will need to be placed. The nurse rubs an odorless ointment on the spot that immediately takes all sensation away.

“Good luck,” she whispers, squeezing my hand once, and then disappearing from view.

The MRI machine starts its familiar hum. The bed moves inside.

Music starts to play in the outside room. It’s a soundtrack I’m familiar with, and one that brings me great comfort:
Lehar
by Mantovani from when Jeremy taught me to dance.

I close my eyes, let my body relax, and focus on reliving that moment in my head as Dr. Telfair operates.

His voice comes through one speaker beside me. “The first injection is done,” he says.

I open my eyes and blink. “I didn’t feel a thing!”

“Now we have to wait,” he says. “You’re safe to move, just a little, if you’d like.”

I scoff something a lot like a laugh. “Strapped in like this? Yeah, right.”

Sometimes humor is needed in the most important moment.

I close my eyes and let the song take me away.

Almost immediately after—or at least, so soon that it feels like no time has passed—Dr. Telfair’s voice comes on once more. “Two and three are done. You’re doing great.”

Just two more?
I marvel. Ten more minutes in here, and I’m free for the rest of my life?

“Take your time,” I tell him. “I’m quite cozy. In fact, I think I’ll miss this bed after we’re done.”

Dr. Telfair chuckles. “You are a dream patient,” he says.

Those words make me swell with pride.

Once more, I drift away on the hypnotic melody, eyes closed.

“Four is done,” Dr. Telfair says. “But uptake is slower than I had hoped. We might have to wait a little longer before the final one.”

My eyes pop open. A jolt of fear rushes through me. “What? Why? Is something wrong?”

“No. You’re doing great.” Dr. Telfair tries to sound reassuring, but there’s a new, subtle edge to his voice that makes me afraid. “Don’t worry, Lilly. We’re almost done.”

All I do
is
worry—regardless of his reassuring words.

My mind immediately goes on overdrive. Uptake is slower. Why? What does that mean?

I try to focus on the music, to make myself relax, but it’s proving impossible. My muscles go tight. Without thinking, I test my restraints.

Finding that I cannot move a single limb is far from being reassuring. Panic tears through me like a tidal wave.

I tell myself that I have to be still, that I am completely safe, that I trust Dr. Telfair and trust what he’s doing…

“Dr. Telfair?” I blurt out. “What is it? Talk to me. What’s wrong?”

His voice comes on just a sliver of a second too late. “Nothing’s wrong. Lilly, you needn’t worry. Everything is going exactly to plan.”

Then why did you mention the delay
? I think in desperation.

My breathing has become shallow and short despite my best efforts. I cannot help but test the straps on my ankles, my arms, my chest, every few seconds.

Blood starts thundering in my ears.

“Dr. Telfair?” I call out. My voice is filled with desperation. I can feel myself close, so utterly close, to the brink. I don’t know how much longer I can stay in here. The gentle hum of the MRI machine becomes a menacing roar. It drowns out all hint of the music playing in the background. The lights around me become angry, hissing stubs of fireworks. “How much longer, Dr. Telfair? How much longer?” The small chamber I’m in starts to become suffocating. I cannot breathe. I cannot breathe. The air is so hot. Too stuffy. My chest is too tight. “Dr. Telfair?”

“Just hold on, Lilly,” he says through the intercom. He does not sound nearly so sure of himself as I would hope. “Hold on. Just a little longer. Hold on…”

“How long?” I gasp. The panic attack is so very close to consuming me now. I’m hovering on the precipice. “Tell me how long. I need a number. Give me a number!”

“Thirty seconds, Lilly,” he says. “Stay calm. Count your breaths, the way I taught you. Focus on your breathing. When you get to thirty, we’ll be done.”

Okay
, I tell myself.
Okay, I can do that
.

But given those thoughts are filled with a desperate agitation. A hurried franticness threatens to swallow me whole.

Thirty seconds
, I tell myself finally.
Goddammit Lilly, you can last thirty more seconds. Can’t you
?

And so, I begin to count.

One Mississippi
.

Deep breath.

Two Mississippi.

Deep breath.

Three Mississippi. Four Mississippi. Five Mississippi.
Deep breath. Deep breath. Deep breath—

Shit!
Five
. Five’s the number of injections, the number that should already have been administered. I should already be out…

I squeeze my eyes tight and continue to count. Slow inhale. Steady exhale.
Ten Mississippi.. Eleven Mississippi. Twelve Mississippi.… Nineteen Mississippi. Twenty-one Mississippi. Twenty-two Mississippi. Twenty-three—

“It’s done,” Dr. Telfair says. His voice catches me off guard. “It’s done, Lilly. The fifth injection’s been given, and…”

Suddenly, the world lurches.

I stagger as if tripped down a set of stairs. I jerk tight. The sensation of falling stabbing through me with violent thrusts, over and over again, down those never ending stairs…

I stop just as suddenly. Now, I’m weightless. I’m floating. I cannot feel my limbs. I have only the vaguest awareness of my body.

My heartbeat pounds in my ears.

A hiss, like the sound of an angry cat, rips me from my sleep. I open my eyes. Instead of the smooth, marble pillar, all I see is blackness.