Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 90503 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90503 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
I liked Dr. Acharya, a dark-skinned man in his fifties with a gentle voice, a serious demeanor, and hands that looked graceful and steady. He outlined the risks of the surgery, explained the procedure, and fielded my questions. I was a little alarmed to learn that I would be awake while someone sawed out a portion of my skull, but he assured me that the brain doesn’t feel pain. “And the drugs they give you will help you forget everything when it’s done,” he said.
I still hadn’t agreed to anything, but I was glad I’d gone to the appointment. I thanked the surgeon for his time and told him I’d be in touch. “The sooner the better,” he told me.
Afterward, Finn and I went for lunch, and I was grateful he didn’t launch into a high-pressure sales pitch. I wanted the chance to think about everything on my own. I was more inclined than I had been yesterday to have the surgery, but still not convinced.
While we ate, I was tempted to ask Finn if he’d replied to Maren. Half of me was dying to know, the other half recognized that the sooner I got her out from under my skin, the better. In the end, I decided it was better not to know.
After lunch, Finn dropped me off at the house while he went in to work. I spent the rest of the day hanging out with Bree and the kids by the pool, grateful that none of them asked me about my head.
But a thousand times that day I wanted to pick up my phone and call Maren, tell her about the appointment, ask her what she thought. I wanted her to do the chakras thing—not just the blowjob (although I wouldn’t have turned it down)—but the whole routine, because it was so calming, and I was feeling so mixed up. Was this operation worth the risk of losing my whole identity? Because that’s what it felt like. Everything I valued—my work, my independence, my pride—would be on the table with me, at the mercy of the surgeon’s knife.
I was also worried about her. I wanted to know how she was feeling and if she’d slept at all, if she’d had the nightmare, if she missed me. I wanted to tell her how badly I wished I could turn back time and do everything differently, do everything right, so she and I could have ended up together.
Later that night, when I was lying in bed, I checked my messages for the millionth time, but there was nothing from her.
I hardly slept.
The next morning, I was up early and decided to go for a run. I threw on running clothes and shoes and moved quietly through the house so I wouldn’t wake anyone. Leaving the front door unlocked, I took off down the street at an easy pace, my stiff muscles groaning as they loosened up. I ran for about twenty minutes and turned around, heading back to the house. While I ran, I tried to keep my mind focused on the pros and cons of the craniotomy, but I kept circling back to Maren. I started to get angry.
At myself, for going to Detroit. At her, for making me fall in love all over again. At the universe, for giving me this shit luck. At Chad, for giving me hope and then crushing it. At Finn, for ignoring his wife. At Bree, for cheating on Finn. Jesus, if those two could fuck up a good thing, what hope was there for anyone else? Nothing made any sense.
I missed my old self. Suddenly I wanted nothing more than to go back to Portland and get my life back. Work. Hang out. Hike. Take a road trip now and then. Be alone when I felt like it and around friends when I didn’t. Fuck a random girl on a Saturday night if I wanted to, one that wasn’t going to matter to me.
But even that held no appeal. The only girl I wanted was Maren, and I couldn’t have her.
Back at the house, I ran straight for the yard, where I did some pushups and planks, sit-ups and stretches. Then I ditched my shoes, socks, and shirt, and jumped into the pool. I stayed under the surface for a long time, and when I came up, Finn was standing near the edge, dressed for work and holding a cup of coffee.
“Morning,” he said.
“Morning.”
“Sleep okay?”
“Not really.” I swam to the edge and rested my elbows on it, setting my chin on my forearms.
“Sorry to hear it.”
“I think I might head back home.”
“What? Dallas…why?”
“I’m wiped out, Finn. I can’t even think. I just want to feel normal again.”
“That’s not going to happen.” Finn sat on the end of a deck chair. “The reason you don’t feel right is because there’s something in your brain that doesn’t belong there. Let’s get it out.”