LIBBY CHECKED HER EMAIL in the morning before heading to the hospital. Junk. More junk. And then at the bottom, an email from the record label, from Michael Foley, the CEO who she had asked to listen to Simon’s MP3.
She felt suddenly nervous. Her heart hammered as she clicked it open.
Dear Libby,
How good to hear from you! Thank you so much for giving us a chance to hear Simon Stein’s music. I’ve shared it with colleagues, and we all agree there is something here that we would very much like to explore further. Please have Simon get in touch with us as soon as possible so we can set up a meeting and get things rolling.
Libby didn’t realize her hands were shaking until she knocked over her pen-and-pencil holder on the desk, sending everything onto the floor.
The label wanted to meet Simon. Oh God. She had done it. She had taken a chance and she had actually done it for him. It wasn’t a guarantee, but it was something positive, something with legs to it. She thought how excited Simon would be. So why did she feel so sick?
She didn’t know much about the music business, how it worked. Maybe Simon would be on the road again. Maybe he could be a studio musician or sell songs to a music publishing and licensing company who might market and pitch for him. That meant that he wouldn’t be with Stella every day, talking to her, holding her hand. If she came out of the coma, Stella was going to need someone to lean on for several months, and it should be someone she trusted. If the music thing worked out, Simon would be busier than ever. He might be gone for extended periods.
And what about me, she thought, and then she immediately chastised herself for being selfish. She liked him, but that didn’t mean she had a right to consider anything with him. They were just this united front, both of them pulling for Stella. Maybe she was just pretending there was something more, masking the real fear she had for her friend with something more comforting. She felt a strange, restless thump in her head. It was just grief and loneliness. It was watching Simon trying, really trying to be better. How often did people do that?
Of course she had to tell him. Of course. At the very least, it was something to hang on to, a chance. But maybe she should wait, just a little. Just until Stella was out of danger.
She grabbed her things and headed to work.
THAT EVENING, WHEN Simon was driving her home, he kept asking her why she was so quiet. “Oh, I don’t know,” Libby said. “I guess I’m worrying about Stella.”
“Me, too,” Simon said, and then he suggested grabbing some veggie burgers at Quantum Leap before he took her home, and she found herself saying yes because anything was better than the quiet of her apartment, where her mind would start accusing her and she would have to listen.
EVERY WEEK SHE told herself she was going to tell him. April was flying by. Maybe she’d tell him now.
Or maybe she wouldn’t.
She got herself ready. She even rehearsed what she would say, but something new was happening to her. Every time she saw Simon, she liked him more and more. She began to notice how beautiful he was physically, how his eyes shone, how, when she touched him, she felt something spark, and she couldn’t help but wonder whether he felt that, too. She kept repeating to herself that it was Stella who counted, Stella who had to get well, that what Libby had was a crush and it shouldn’t have anything to do with anything. As a doctor, her first job was her patient.
She waited, telling herself if Simon asked about the reaction to his songs, well, then, she would certainly tell him. She wouldn’t keep it secret. And if the label CEO emailed again, she’d tell him for sure. But he never did. And Simon never asked. Maybe because he had to keep hoping. And that made Libby hope, too. Everything has a cost, she told herself, and you just had to weigh it and hope that you were right.
Since Simon didn’t bring it up, maybe he had forgotten. Maybe she could forget too.
THAT NIGHT, SHE started watching a horror movie about a woman who finds monsters living in her basement. Oddly enough, it made her feel better. At least there were no monsters in her life.
When the phone rang, she reached for it automatically, especially when she saw the hospital number. “Yeah,” she said, her eyes still focused on the screen.
“Libby,” Debra said. “They need you at the hospital for Stella Davison.”