A young, female ambulance attendant pushed the foot end of Tanner’s stretcher into the ambulance and explained once again why Jennifer could not ride with her son.
“It’s already pretty tight back here.” The attendant swept her hand through the air just inside the door. “You can see for yourself. There isn’t much room. If something happens, we need to be able to move around quickly. You would be in the way.”
Jennifer listened but her eyes were focused on Tanner, or what she could see of him beneath the white sheet that covered him up to his chin. The female attendant’s male counterpart locked the stretcher into place, repositioned Tanner’s oxygen mask, and then busied himself laying out a variety of other gear: blood pressure cuff, stethoscope, ophthalmoscope, bottles of liquids, bags of fluids, syringes. He lined them up along the edge of the stretcher creating a moat of medical paraphernalia around Tanner. The scene seemed to emphasize the female attendant’s words, “If something happens ....”
Even though Tanner had been moving some in the house by the time the ambulance arrived, he was now perfectly still. Jennifer knew he was scared to death, frightened by what had happened, frightened by all the unfamiliar faces and gadgetry, frightened because his mommy wasn’t in there with him. Once more she considered arguing with the female attendant. But she realized the girl was too young to understand her depth of emotion, that protective bond between a mother and her child, so she remained quiet and acquiescent, realizing that all she was likely to accomplish was a delay in getting Tanner to the hospital.
Still, when the female attendant climbed into the back of the ambulance and started to close the door, Jennifer grabbed the door’s edge, holding it a moment while she called to Tanner.
“Tanner? Honey? I’ll be right behind you. Don’t worry. I’m here.”
The female attendant smiled tolerantly and tugged on the door. Reluctantly, Jennifer let it go and scurried over to her Maxima to follow.
The ambulance used its emergency lights, but not the siren, as it wound its way down Highway 6, the red light casting an ethereal glow on the trees and fields that bordered the road. Jennifer kept pace, following as close behind as she dared, watching the goings-on in the back of the ambulance through the two small windows. So far, everything seemed calm in there. Maybe too calm. Why are they going so slow? She fought down a compulsion to drive up to the back bumper of the ambulance and nudge it into moving faster.
Jennifer was relieved when she saw that Dr. Webber was again on duty, but no sooner had Tanner been transferred from the ambulance to one of the ER stretchers when the younger Dr. Singleton appeared.
“Hi,” he said with a fleeting smile at Jennifer. “I was here seeing another patient when the ambulance called in so I waited around.” He turned his attention to Tanner, who, though sleepy-eyed, seemed otherwise normal.
“Hi, Dr. Singleton,” Tanner said, his voice a little slurred.
“Hi, Tanner. I didn’t realize you liked the hospital so much that you wanted to come back.”
Tanner grimaced, then looked at his mother. “Why are we here?”
“Don’t you remember anything?” Jennifer asked.
Tanner shook his head.
“Uh, oh,” Dr. Singleton said, making a face of exaggerated concern. “Another case of empty skullamous. Otherwise known as the no-brains syndrome.” He stroked his chin and looked down at Tanner. “Yep,” he said, “the only answer is to amputate.” He made a slicing motion with his finger across his neck. “Off with his head.”
Tanner smiled. “You’re a pretty goofy guy for a doctor,” he said.
“So that’s why they call me Dr. Goofy behind my back.”
Tanner giggled and even Jennifer had to smile.
“Okay,” Dr. Singleton said in a more serious tone. “Let’s get down to business here.”
Jennifer stood beside the stretcher and watched Dr. Singleton perform his examination. It was the usual stuff: lights in the eyes, questions for the head, a hammer to the knees. She watched the doctor’s face closely in hopes that his facial expression might give away some of his thoughts, but all she saw were a few laugh wrinkles when he tickled Tanner’s ribs. That got her to wondering how old he was. Even if he was fresh out of residency she guessed he had to be at least in his thirties. Probably closer to thirty-five. She hoped he was old enough to know what he was doing.
“Well, I don’t find anything abnormal,” Dr. Singleton said when he was done with the examination.
Jennifer stared at him in stunned silence a moment. “How can that be?” she asked finally. “For God’s sake, he had a seizure! He’s never had one before. Something must be wrong.”
Dr. Singleton reached across the stretcher and placed a placating hand on her arm. In her frustration, her first impulse was to shake it off. But it felt warm and steady and reassuring. So she let it stay.
“I know this is frustrating for you,” Dr. Singleton said. “There are some studies we can do. A CAT scan to get a better look inside his head and ….”
Jennifer shook her head vehemently. “No! No more tests. That’s how he got into this mess in the first place.”
Dr. Singleton came around the stretcher, took her by the shoulders and turned her so she was facing him. She kept her arms folded tightly across her chest and looked him in the eye, prepared to do battle if necessary. “That was different,” he said. “An MRI operates by using a giant magnet and radio waves. A CAT scan has no magnetic properties. It’s perfectly safe. I promise you.”
His voice was full of concern and compassion. Jennifer studied his face, suddenly fascinated by the tiny flecks of blue and brown in the otherwise green eyes. There was something about him that made her want to trust in him, want to believe in him. But this was her son’s life they were messing with. She should probably get another opinion at the very least.
As if he had anticipated her thought, Dr. Singleton said, “I would like to get a neurologist to see him. And if it will make you feel any better, I’ll arrange it so you can be with Tanner while they do the CAT scan.”
She chewed the inside of her cheek, debating. She had never felt so helpless and ignorant. But she knew she was out of her realm when it came to making medical decisions. She was going to have to trust this man, whether she was ready to or not.
“Okay,” she said grudgingly, and then seeing the almost wounded look on his face, she added, “And thank you. I would feel better if I could stay with him.”
She was rewarded for her efforts by a warm smile and a gentle squeeze on her shoulders.
“Atta girl,” Dr. Singleton said.
Jennifer smiled back at him.
***
Tanner was much more relaxed with his CAT scan than he had been with the first tests. He knew now that even though the machinery looked scary, and he didn’t much like having his head pinned down with foam and tape, nothing was going to hurt and he wasn’t going to be zapped into some time warp. Plus, he felt better because his mother was here this time. He couldn’t see her with his head taped in position like it was, but he knew she was on the other side of the glass wall. He could feel her presence.
He heard the clicks and whirs of the machinery as it moved around him, though eventually it became nothing more than background noise to the voices in his head. This morning he was hearing only one or two voices at a time, making it easy for him to understand what they were saying. But as the day wore on, the number of voices grew until sometimes it sounded like that day at the playground area at McDonald’s when some kid was having a birthday party. Here at the hospital the voices seemed fewer and slower, but there were a lot of big words he didn’t understand – words like “carcinoma” and “angiography” and “metatarsal.” With nothing to do but stare at the inside of the huge donut hole his head was in, the voices took over easily.
He had learned pretty quickly that he needed to keep his mind busy and focused in order to keep the voices out. Then this afternoon with Evan, he had discovered he could focus on a single person and filter out all the other voices. He had practiced on his mother during dinner and heard how tired she was, and how worried she was about him, and something about hoping Evan would go home for the night.
Then the best voice of all came.
At first Tanner didn’t believe the voice because it said it was his father and Tanner knew his father was dead and dead people didn’t talk. But then the voice said, yes, I am dead, but I can still communicate with you. That got him real scared. If what the voice said was true, he was talking to a ghost! In his fright he focused as hard as he could on making the voice go away, but it didn’t work. Then he tried letting all the other voices in to drown out the ghost voice, but that didn’t work either. So finally, defeated, he listened. And the voice told him about how much it loved him and loved his mother, and how it missed them, and how it was there to help them. It was a nice voice really, and one time Tanner even thought it sounded familiar, as if he remembered it. But he didn’t remember his father at all. The voice told him that was okay – it would help him to remember and to know.
Tanner focused on the voice now, trying to bring it back, but all he could hear was the others. The machine clicked and whirred, words danced around in his head, and eventually the incessant murmur of voices inside his mind lulled him to sleep.
When he awoke, the voices were gone and they were taking away the foam and tape from around his head. His mother stood behind the glass window, smiling and waving at him. He smiled back at her as he hopped down off the table into a wheelchair.
Tanner, Jennifer, and Dr. Singleton all squeezed into a dimly lit viewing room. Dr. Singleton took a piece of film and slid it into the top of a horizontal row of light boxes that ran along one wall. The light box flashed on, went dark, then came on again, emitting a glaring white light that revealed a dozen or more little pictures on the piece of film.
Dr. Singleton pointed to one of the pictures with a pen he pulled out of his pocket. “This is the metal object they saw on the skull films.”
Jennifer studied the spot he pointed out, at first seeing nothing more than a bunch of different shapes in varying shades of gray. Then she noticed a fine white line where he was pointing. It looked miniscule, hardly bad enough to have caused all this excitement.
Dr. Singleton glanced down at Tanner, who was sitting in a wheelchair positioned behind and between him and Jennifer. “Can you see it?” he asked him.
Tanner nodded, wide-eyed. “Is that my brain?”
Dr. Singleton smiled. “Yes it is. And a darned fine one, too. One of the best I’ve ever seen.”
Tanner eyed him suspiciously “Really?” he asked, unsure if he was being teased.
“Would I lie?”
Tanner didn’t answer largely because he really didn’t know. But he didn’t think Dr. Singleton would lie to him. The doc just felt ... well ... right. So he turned away and once again stared at the pictures.
“What part of his brain is this?” Jennifer asked, pointing to the general location of the metal object.
Dr. Singleton traced the pen around a light gray area near the center of one of the pictures. “The foreign body is resting in the mid-brain area, just behind and below the corpus callosum.” He set the pen down and put the backs of his hands together, lacing his fingers. Then he bent his hands at the knuckles until his palms faced inward. It reminded Jennifer of a game she played as a child and the ditty that went with it ran through her mind:
This is the church,
And this is the steeple,
Open the doors
And see all the people.
Dr. Singleton said, “The corpus callosum is a network of nerve fibers that joins the two halves of the brain together like this.” He held his hands up to demonstrate. Then he picked up the pen again and traced around another smaller spot. “The radiologist thinks the metal object is up against the pineal gland. That’s this little dark spot here.”
Jennifer asked, “Did the metal sliver cause his seizure?”
“More than likely. There’s no obvious damage anywhere, but it’s possible that the metal might have triggered some unusual nerve impulses if it was moved.”
Dr. Singleton pushed his glasses up on his nose with one finger and studied the film in silence a moment. Jennifer watched him and waited, afraid to interrupt his concentration with more questions. When he did finally look at her again, his expression was apologetic. “I can’t tell you if the seizure is likely to occur again. We need to do an EEG. Get a read-out of his brain waves, to get a better idea.”
Great, Jennifer thought. More tests.
Dr. Singleton sat at a nearby desk and gestured to another chair for Jennifer. “Describe the seizure for me again,” he said.
Jennifer went over the evening’s events: starting with their return from dinner, Tanner’s glass of Kool-Aid, and then finding him in his room with that vacant look on his face – something Dr. Singleton called a fugue state. When she mentioned Scotch’s odd behavior, Dr. Singleton stopped her.
“Wait, wait,” he said, holding up one hand. “You say the dog was trying to pull him down?” His voice had an excited edge to it.
Jennifer shrugged. “I guess. That’s what it looked like. She kept pulling on his shirt sleeve like this.” She grabbed her own sleeve to demonstrate.
“Fascinating!” Dr. Singleton said. “I’ve heard of that before but I’ve never seen it.”
“Seen what?”
“Your dog, what is his name?”
“It’s Scotch, short for Butterscotch. And it’s a her.”
“Her. Sorry.” He made an impatient wave with his hand. “I think your dog knew Tanner was going to have a seizure. Some dogs have the ability. There have been some studies done trying to figure out how they do it, but no one has come up with anything conclusive. Some of the theories postulate that the dog can smell something different; others embrace the idea that there is some sort of unusual vibration or noise that only a dog can detect. Something to do with the aura that many people experience before they have a seizure: odd smells, ringing sounds, that sort of thing. Nobody knows for sure how a dog can tell when a seizure is coming on but they can. In fact, they now have training programs for dogs who serve as a companion to people with severe epilepsy.”
“You mean like a Seeing Eye dog?” Jennifer asked.
“Basically, yes.”
Tanner said, “You mean Scotch knew I was going to be sick?”
“That’s right,” Dr. Singleton said. “And that may play in our favor.” He looked over at Jennifer. “It would be interesting to know whether or not the dog started to react before Tanner got into the fugue state in which you found him.”
Jennifer thought back, trying to remember the exact sequence of events. “I ... I don’t know,” she said, shaking her head. “I heard the dog when I was still on the stairs. It took me a minute to get up the stairs and into Tanner’s room. How long does this fugue state last?”
“It varies. Usually only for a few seconds, maybe a minute or two.”
Jennifer looked back up at the series of pictures on the light box, her head spinning with information and questions. It was just too much to digest. She forced herself to take a calming breath and focus on one piece at a time. She studied the gray blob beside the metal sliver. “What about this gland in his brain?” she asked. “The one the metal is up against. What does that do?”
“The pineal gland,” Dr. Singleton explained, “is sometimes referred to as the third eye in frogs and lizards. It’s associated with the production of certain hormones that regulate our biological clocks. Things like puberty in humans, hibernation in animals, that sort of thing.”
Jennifer digested that a moment before she asked, “So what, if any, effect might this metal thing have on Tanner?”
Dr. Singleton chewed one corner of his lip. “I don’t know for sure.”
Jennifer threw her hands up in frustration. “Great! What do you know?” Dr. Singleton’s face colored and she instantly regretted the harshness of her words.
“You have to understand that the human brain is still very poorly understood,” Dr. Singleton said defensively. “We only use about one-quarter of its capacity and even that part is still a mystery in many respects. I’m doing the best I can.”
Jennifer reached out and touched his arm. “I know. I’m sorry. It’s just that this is all a little overwhelming. I’m just worried. And tired.”
Dr. Singleton stood up and walked over to her chair. He took both of her hands and sandwiched them between his own. He was so tall, it strained Jennifer’s neck to look up at him. “I promise you we will get to the bottom of all this,” he said softly. His hands felt warm and reassuring around hers, his voice calming. He smiled down at her, making the dimple in his cheek deepen and causing Jennifer to think that he really did have a very pleasant smile. After giving her hands a little squeeze he released them, and Jennifer shoved them down between her knees.
Dr. Singleton turned to Tanner. “So, Mr. Bolton. What should we do with you next?”
Tanner grinned. “Throw me out with the trash.”
“Really?” Dr. Singleton slid a sidelong glance at Jennifer. “Is that what your mother does with you when you misbehave?”
“She said she might one time. When I fell off the ladder outside trying to get my ball off the roof. But she was just joking. She worries about me all the time.”
“I’ll bet she does. So should we keep you here in the hospital again tonight where we can make sure you stay out of trouble, or do you think you can behave long enough for me to let you go home?”
Tanner’s eyes grew wide and his feet pushed his wheelchair back a few inches. “I’ll behave,” he said quickly. “I promise! Please don’t make me eat those yucky eggs and bacon again.”
Both Jennifer and Dr. Singleton laughed. Dr. Singleton reached down and ruffled Tanner’s hair. “Okay. Home it is. But I want to see you in my office first thing tomorrow for that EEG. Nine o’clock okay?”
Tanner looked at his mother with his eyebrows raised.
“Okay,” Jennifer said resignedly. “We’ll be there.”
“Okay,” Tanner echoed with a shrug. “If I gotta.”
***
Back at the house, Jennifer tucked Tanner into bed and kissed him on the forehead. “Sleep tight, Tan,” she whispered.
“Where’s Scotch?” Tanner asked, propping himself up on one elbow. His eyes were heavy lidded, his voice slurred. Dr. Singleton had given him some medication that he said would make him groggy.
“Downstairs eating I think,” Jennifer said “I’ll get her.” She went out to the top of the stairs and called to Scotch. Within seconds the dog came bounding up the stairs, shooting past her into Tanner’s room, where she hopped up on the bed. After two quick turns, she settled down with her body along the length of Tanner’s, her head resting on the pillow next to the boy’s. Jennifer smiled and patted the dog on the head.
Tanner turned on his side facing Scotch and threw one arm over the furry neck. The thumb of his other hand found its way into his mouth. The gesture nearly broke Jennifer’s heart. Tanner had given up thumb-sucking two years ago.
Good night, Tanner,” she whispered. “I love you.”
“Love you, too, Mom,” Tanner said with a voice thick as syrup.
Jennifer smoothed his hair back from his forehead and tucked the blanket in around his shoulders.
“Good night, Dad,” Tanner added.
Jennifer froze. She stood a long time, petrified to move so much as a muscle, resisting an urge to glance around the dimly lit room. She listened to the even rhythm of Tanner’s breathing, stared at the soft down that lined his cheeks, inhaled the faint scent of little boy sweat. Gradually, her muscles began to unwind and her stance became more relaxed.
God, how I love him! It was times such as these when she ached for Tim, wishing he could be alive to see their son the way she saw him now – asleep, with the youthful mark of innocence stamped on his tender face. Though she felt sure Tanner couldn’t possibly have any memories of Tim, she thought he must miss his father terribly. Why else would he be carrying on these imaginary conversations? She suspected he often felt lost, lonely, and abandoned. And she, of all people, could understand that. The death of her own father had been devastating.
It had happened during her second year at the University of Virginia. One night she got a call from a woman who identified herself as a nurse in an emergency room in Portland, Maine. “We’re sorry to inform you ... blah, blah blah. A sudden and massive coronary ... blah, blah, blah. Your mother asked us to call ... blah, blah, blah.” It had all seemed so cold and impersonal.
His death had hit her hard. He had always been her hero, her confidant, her guiding wisdom, her pillar of strength. She worshipped the man and loved him with everything she had. There was no one in the world she felt closer to. Their bond had grown especially strong in the year or so preceding his death – when he was on his own – even though they were separated by miles. She had even toyed briefly with the idea of postponing college so she could move back to Portland to be with him. But he had assured her he was fine, and that her education was more important. How foolish she’d been to believe him.
Though the doctors had thrown about a bunch of technical terms – coronary occlusion and myocardial infarction – Jennifer knew what had really killed her father: a broken heart.
The shocking news of her mother’s affair had stunned Jennifer, eliciting an anger that surprised her with its ferocity. It had simply devastated her father. Though her mother had begged for understanding and forgiveness for what she admitted was a profound error in judgment, Jennifer’s father could not bring himself to do so. Nor could Jennifer. In her mind, there was no forgiveness. Her father’s death only served to harden her heart even further. As far as Jennifer was concerned, her mother had killed her father. Killed him just as surely as if she’d held a gun to his chest and pulled the trigger.
During the year after her father’s death, Jennifer struggled to understand and forgive what her mother had done, frightened at the prospect of losing the only real family she had left. But she never could – whether from stubborn pride or a sense of justice she neither knew nor cared. Finally, tired of battling her own inner turmoil, she made the decision to simply cut the woman out of her life. She severed all communications, never telling her mother about her marriage to Tim, or about Tanner. She hung up whenever the woman called, (eventually getting her phone number changed to an unlisted one) and returned all her letters unopened. If anyone asked, Jennifer told them both of her parents were dead.
Though it took a while, her mother finally gave up all attempts to contact her. It had been almost seven years since Jennifer had last heard anything. Her primary feeling was one of relief, though at times the loneliness had been almost overwhelming, particularly after Tim’s death.
She sighed and gave her son one last look. Tanner was her family now. And she would do whatever it took to keep him safe. She would never disappoint him, or betray him, or let him down the way her own mother had. Not as long as she had an ounce of fight and breath left in her. Quietly, she padded down the hall to her own room, grabbed a blanket and pillow from the bed, and then returned to Tanner’s bedroom where she spent a fitful night trying to get comfortable in the rocking chair beside the window.
***
The morning dawned gray and thick, the humidity competing with the temperature to see which one could hit one hundred first. Tanner woke up complaining of a headache, scaring Jennifer at first, until she remembered Dr. Singleton warning her that he might have a bit of a hangover from the medication. Other than the headache, Tanner seemed to be his usual self, chattering his way through breakfast and polishing off a large bowl of Lucky Charms. Jennifer watched him, taking comfort from the fact that he had his usual rosy-cheeked glow and appeared to be suffering no residual effects from the previous night’s events.
The only unusual thing Jennifer noticed was that Scotch, who was normally under her feet any time she was in the kitchen, was glued to Tanner’s side. She lay beneath his chair while he ate, followed him to the sink when he washed out his cereal bowl, and followed him upstairs when he was done.
Jennifer was tempted to follow, too – to help Tanner dress – but she thought better of it. Her son’s developing sense of privacy extended to her as well. So she busied herself cleaning up the breakfast mess instead, keeping one ear tuned for Scotch, in case she heard that strange guttural whining again.
When Tanner returned downstairs ten minutes later, Jennifer had to suppress a smile. He had totally ignored the clothes she set out for him, opting instead for his favorite pair of worn, torn cut-offs and his Wile E. Coyote T-shirt. A fierce struggle for independence was yet another character her son had developed recently and though at times it tugged at Jennifer’s heart strings to realize how quickly he was growing up, she also relished each bit of evidence about who Tanner was going to be. His personality was an entertaining, though at times frustrating, mix of Tim’s patient perseverance and her streak of independent stubbornness.
Carny called, and Jennifer gave her a brief synopsis of the past evening’s events, promising to call after they were through at the doctor’s office. It was just after eight-thirty when they headed out the door. A westerly wind had carried in heavy, black clouds and Jennifer thought she could both feel and smell the thunderstorm that was brewing.
Dr. Singleton’s office was one of twenty or so located in a building adjacent to the hospital. The office was much as she remembered: women scurrying about behind the glass enclosed reception area, piped in music playing dimly overhead, stacks of out-of-date, well-worn magazines piled on the waiting room seats and tables, a faint antiseptic smell that lingered in the air. There were three other people already seated in the waiting area: two women and a man, their faces buried in magazines as they struggled to maintain their anonymity. Jennifer led Tanner toward two vacant seats along the far wall and they had barely settled down when a door opened and someone called Tanner’s name. As they rose and headed for the exam area, Jennifer saw one of the women in the waiting room shoot them a look of annoyance as they passed.
“Good morning, Mrs. Bolton.” The person who greeted them was a young, gamin-eyed girl with very short, dark hair and a waist about as big around as a pencil. She didn’t look much older than twenty – if that. “You must be Tanner,” she said, bowing down to his eye level, which considering the girl’s small size, wasn’t very far. Tanner stared back and said nothing.
The girl straightened up and directed her eyes at Jennifer. “I’m Lori, young Dr. Singleton’s nurse. That’s how we’re distinguishing between the two – young doctor and old doctor. Though I’m not sure the senior Dr. Singleton likes it much.” She was very animated, waving her hands about as she talked and bobbing her head from side to side. She flashed a smile at Jennifer, giggled stupidly, and then abruptly turned down the hallway. “Right in here,” she said, holding open the door to one of the exam rooms. “Dr. Singleton will be right in.”
Jennifer took a seat in the only chair in the room, while Tanner climbed up onto the exam table and sat sideways with his feet hanging over the edge. He eyed the walls, which were covered with framed educational degrees and a smattering of child’s drawings, as his legs swung back and forth, his feet banging loudly against the side of the table with each descent.
“Tanner, please!” Jennifer said when she could tolerate the noise no longer.
“Sorry.” He dropped his head and smiled sheepishly, peering up at her through that stubborn shock of hair. It was an expression that never failed to soften her heart and she suspected Tanner knew it.
The door to the exam room opened and the younger Dr. Singleton walked in. He was minus the lab coat this morning, dressed in a colorful Hawaiian print shirt and a pair of khaki slacks. His hair had been combed straight back from his face but a small Alfalfa-like cowlick stood up near his crown, causing Jennifer to bite her cheek to keep from smiling. He looked totally different this morning: more human, more vulnerable, less authoritative. Jennifer found herself comparing him to Evan’s always immaculate and well-tailored look.
“Well hello there, Mr. Bolton,” Dr. Singleton said cheerfully. “I take it you had a restful night after you got home?”
Tanner nodded, then shot a questioning glance at his mother.
“And Mrs. Bolton?” Dr. Singleton asked, looking pointedly at Jennifer.
Jennifer shrugged.
“Let me guess,” Dr. Singleton said, hiking one hip up on the exam table next to Tanner. “You slept sitting up in a chair in Tanner’s room all night. Am I right?”
Jennifer’s surprised and guilty expression gave him all the answer he needed. He turned his attention back to Tanner.
“We need to figure out a way to get your mother here some rest. She’s too pretty to have those dark circles under her eyes, don’t you think?”
Tanner looked at his mother as if the thought of her needing rest, like other human beings, had never crossed his mind. “I guess,” he said.
Jennifer felt herself blushing until the tops of her ears felt so hot she feared they might burst into flames.
“Well, we’ll get back to that later,” Dr. Singleton said, climbing off the exam table and opening a drawer in the cabinet beneath the sink. “Let’s take a look at you first.”
Jennifer watched as Dr. Singleton went through the usual litany of tests: flashlights in Tanner’s eyes, orientation questions, test of his grip strength. After checking all of Tanner’s reflexes with a tiny hammer, Dr. Singleton let him hop down and took his place. He handed the hammer to Tanner. “Here, you check mine,” he said. Jennifer smiled as she watched her son try to find the right spots to hit and the right amount of force to hit them with. By the time they were done, everyone in the room was laughing.
“Okay, calm down,” Dr. Singleton whispered. “If we have too much fun in here it will make all my other patients think this is a fun place to be. Then I’ll never get any time off!”
As if on cue, the door to the exam room opened. Jennifer looked up and saw the elder Dr. Singleton poke his head in. “May I come in?” he asked.
“Of course,” the younger doctor said. Jennifer noted curiously that his facial expression had rapidly changed to one of formal sobriety. “Come on in. I was just about to come looking for you anyway. I wanted to run this case by you.”
Even his voice had changed. If Jennifer hadn’t been sitting there watching the interchange, she would have sworn there was a third person in the room. It was almost amusing to see the towering and lanky son nervously kowtowing to his shorter, rather chubby father.
The elder Dr. Singleton stepped into the already crowded room and closed the door behind him. He acknowledged Jennifer with a nod of his head. “Mrs. Bolton. How have you been?”
“I’ve been fine,” Jennifer answered, “but Tanner’s had a few problems.”
“So I understand.”
“You already know?” Eric asked, looking perplexed. “How?”
“Simple enough, really. Dr. Webber and I played a game of golf together yesterday morning and he filled me in on Tanner’s visit to the ER. So when I saw Tanner’s name on the schedule book, I figured I’d pop in and see how he was doing.”
Though the words were relatively innocuous, Jennifer thought she detected a slight tone of condescension in the elder doctor’s voice. She found her feelings shifting from amusement to sympathy for Eric as she observed the father-son interchange.
“Well,” Eric said, clearing his throat, “his pupils are equal and reactive, he’s alert and oriented times three, has normal muscle tone, good reflexes, negative Babinski. A CT scan done yesterday was normal except for the metal foreign body. He had a grand mal-type seizure last night of relatively short duration with no post-ictal effects other than a little lethargy by the time I saw him in the ER.”
Jennifer watched Eric Singleton closely as he rattled the information off to his father. The rote tone of his voice made it sound as if he was reciting facts for a medical school test. Even his manner was different; his posture was stiffer and straighter, and the casual ambience she had come to associate with him was gone.
“What about an EEG?” the elder Dr. Singleton asked.
“Set it up for this morning. In fact, Nick offered to come over here to see the boy since his office doesn’t open up until one o’clock today.” He turned and looked at Jennifer. “I’m sorry. Nick is Dr. Calutto, a neurologist with an office just a few doors down. I’ve asked him to take a look at Tanner.”
Jennifer nodded slowly. The odd undercurrent in the room left her feeling uneasy.
“Did you witness Tanner’s seizure, Mrs. Bolton?” the elder Dr. Singleton asked.
“I did.” She described the events for him.
“Anything else unusual? Any behavioral changes?”
Jennifer looked over at Tanner and was startled to see that he was staring at the elder Dr. Singleton with a dark scowl on his face.
“Well, there has been some unusual behavior,” she said slowly, watching Tanner’s face. His gaze remained fixed on the older man, his eyes so narrowed it made a tiny chill run down Jennifer’s spine. She debated mentioning Tanner’s fixation on his father. Maybe now, with two medical professionals in the room, was a safe time to broach the subject.
“Tanner says he has been talking to his dead father,” she said carefully, trying to keep her voice even and nonaccusatory.
The elder Dr. Singleton’s eyebrows shot up. “Really?” He looked over at Tanner and Jennifer thought he was a little taken aback by the dark intensity of the boy’s stare. He quickly shifted his gaze back to Jennifer. “Perhaps I might speak with you outside a moment, Mrs. Bolton? When they are ready to do Tanner’s EEG.”
With that, a knock came on the door and Lori poked her head in. “Dr. Calutto is here,” she announced, stepping aside and holding the door.
Dr. Calutto was younger than Jennifer expected, with a round, almost baby face, gentle brown eyes, and a short pudgy build. With the addition of yet another person in the small exam room, it became stiflingly close. After a brief introduction, Jennifer followed the elder Dr. Singleton out into the hallway, leaving Tanner in the room with Eric and Dr. Calutto.
“Come into my office, Mrs. Bolton,” Dr. Singleton said, leading her. “Have a seat.”
Jennifer sat in the maroon-colored, leather, wing chair the doctor had indicated, while he settled into its mate behind a massive mahogany desk. A tower of charts on either corner of the desk framed his face as he leaned forward, hands folded together, his thumbs twirling around each other.
“I’m not sure what my son has suggested to you regarding this incident with Tanner,” he began, “but I am concerned about these personality changes you have seen. You say Tanner claims to have spoken to his dead father?”
“Well, yes,” Jennifer answered, trying to keep the edge of panic out of her voice. “When he had this seizure last night, right before he started the twitching, he looked at me and said he had been talking to his dad. It was kind of creepy, actually.” She shifted nervously in the chair.
Dr. Singleton nodded, pushing his lower lip in and out. Then he sat back in his chair, crossing his hands over his rotund stomach. “Has he ever made a statement like that before?”
Jennifer shook her head. “No. But I can’t help but wonder if it might not have been triggered by the mention of the facts surrounding Tim’s death. It came out in the ER. the other night – about the crash and the explosion and all. That was the first time Tanner had ever heard the whole story. I could tell from the look on his face that it bothered him.”
“I see,” Dr. Singleton said. “You could well be right.” He sat up, opened a drawer in his desk and took out a notepad and pen. “I would like you to take Tanner to see a friend of mine, Dr. Andersen.” He ripped a page off the note pad and handed it to Jennifer. The name, Dr. Andersen, an address, and a phone number were written on it. “Andersen is one of the best child psychologists in the state. Maybe in the country.”
Jennifer frowned. “A psychologist? Do you really think that’s necessary?”
“I do, at least for an initial work-up. Tanner may have some trouble dealing with this thing about his father’s death. Head injuries can also cause some personality changes and I think Dr. Andersen will be able to give us a better idea of which problems are psychological and which are pathological.”
Jennifer nodded, too numb to say anything. Dr. Singleton stood up and came around the desk, holding his hand out. “Tanner will be all right,” he said. “Don’t worry.”
Everyone kept telling her that, but so far she had seen things only get worse. Jennifer took the man’s hand, felt him give her a gentle squeeze, then stood up. Dr. Singleton draped an arm over her shoulders, her greater height making the gesture awkward, and led her back toward the examination room.
“Have a seat here,” he said, gesturing to a row of chairs along the hallway. “We don’t want to interrupt the EEG.”
Jennifer did as she was told. She sat and fidgeted and watched as other patients came and went, the exam room doors opening and closing – all of them, that is, except Tanner’s. She checked her watch a hundred times, sure that an hour had passed, startled to see it was only five minutes later than the last time she had looked.
The elder Dr. Singleton came out of an examination room and nearly ran into Lori, the gamin-eyed nurse, in the hallway.
“Isn’t it just awful what happened at the Hanover’s?” Jennifer heard Lori whisper loudly. The girl’s voice sounded more fascinated than appalled. “I can’t believe he killed his whole family!”
“It certainly is a tragedy,” Dr. Singleton said, shaking his head. “I feel partially responsible since Barry was my patient. I should have picked up on the severity of his depression.”
Lori touched the man’s arm. “It’s not your fault,” she said. “Sometimes people just crack all of a sudden. It seems you read about senseless violence like that every day in the paper.”
“True,” the doctor said thoughtfully. “But I still feel somehow responsible. Now, would you do me a favor and send Mrs. Sanders to the lab for a CBC?”
“Certainly,” Lori said, taking a chart from a holder beside one of the exam room doors. She knocked briefly, opened the door and disappeared inside. Dr. Singleton headed back to his office.
Jennifer sat, waiting anxiously and wondering about the conversation she had just overheard. But before she could ponder it much, Tanner’s exam room door opened and Dr. Calutto and Eric stepped out into the hall.
Jennifer stood up and nearly ran over to them. “How did it go?”
“It went fine, Mrs. Bolton,” Dr. Calutto said. “Everything was normal except for one area of unusual activity about twenty minutes into the test. It wasn’t characteristic of anything pathological so I’m not sure what caused it. I need to take the strips back and look them over more carefully. But there was no sign of epilepsy or any permanent damage.”
Jennifer breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank goodness. Can I go back in with Tanner?”
“Certainly,” Dr. Calutto said.
The exam room was dark when Jennifer went in, lit only by a small goose-neck lamp in the corner. Tanner was lying on his side on the examination table, curled into a fetal position. A machine with a zillion multi-colored wires snaking out of it sat on a cart near the sink. As her eyes adjusted to the dimmer light, Jennifer noticed that Tanner had three small, red wheals on his forehead along his hairline.
“Tanner?” she said softly.
“I’m awake,” he answered.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. Now. But I don’t want to do one of those again. It hurt. They screwed a bunch of needles into my head.” Jennifer saw a tear slide down his cheek and she bent down and gathered him into her arms.
“I’m sorry, sport,” she said. She rocked him back and forth for a minute until he pushed himself away.
“I’m okay, Mom,” he said, sitting up. “Dad was with me for part of the time. He made it okay.”
Jennifer stared at her son, saw the transparent belief in his eyes, and sighed heavily. “Oh, Tanner,” she said. “Your father is dead. He can’t be with you anymore, or talk to you anymore. I know you must have been upset when you heard about the way he died, but it happened a long time ago. I didn’t tell you about it before because I didn’t want to upset you.”
“I’m not upset,” Tanner said with frightening calm. “I’m just mad.”
“Of course you are,” Jennifer said taking his hand. “It’s not fair that your father died before you ever got to know him. It’s okay to feel angry about it. I did. For a while I was even angry with your father for leaving me. How’s that for silly?”
“I’m not mad at Dad,” Tanner said with exasperation. “I don’t know who to be mad at yet. Dad hasn’t told me.”
Jennifer dropped his hand and stepped back, wrapping her arms around herself. “What do you mean, Tanner?” she asked, her voice both confused and wary.
“I mean, Dad hasn’t told me who killed him yet.”
A thundering silence permeated the room.
“Nobody killed your father, Tanner,” Jennifer said, her voice short and tense.
“Sure they did,” Tanner said with conviction. “Dad told me so. That accident wasn’t an accident.”
“Oh my God,” Jennifer muttered.
The door to the exam room opened and Eric came in. He stopped, the light from the hallway silhouetting him in the doorway so that Jennifer couldn’t see his face. Her face, however, was well lit as the light from the hallway fell on it. Her eyes were wide with fear, her hand was clamped over her mouth. Eric’s brow furrowed with worry as he looked at her. “Is everything okay in here?”
Jennifer just stared at him.
He looked over at Tanner. “Tanner? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” he said nonchalantly.
Eric closed the door behind him and walked over to Jennifer, placing an arm around her shoulders. “Jennifer? What’s wrong?”
“Tanner,” she said, her voice cracking. “He needs help.” A cascade of tears filled, then overflowed her eyes, running down her cheeks.
“He’s okay,” Eric said, pulling her toward him.
At first she tensed, fearful that any gesture of kindness, no matter how small, would erode the barely maintained control she had on her emotions. But he overpowered her resistance and the dam broke loose. Jennifer buried her face in Eric’s chest and sobbed all over his shirt, taking in the faint and pleasant smell of him with each gasp.
Eric held her, rubbing her back gently. He saw Tanner watching him over Jennifer’s shoulder and winked.
Tanner smiled.
Eric rolled his eyes.
Tanner’s smile grew bigger.
Eric stuck out his tongue.
Tanner laughed.
Jennifer, sensing that the mood in the room had shifted, got her sobs under control and stepped back from Eric. There was a large wet spot on the front of his shirt.
“Feel better now?” Eric said, holding out a box of tissues.
Jennifer yanked three tissues out and nodded. She blew her nose and then looked up at him apologetically. “I’m sorry,” she said.
“No need to apologize,” Eric said smiling. “You can snot on my shirt anytime you want.”
Tanner giggled and even Jennifer cracked a smile.
“I know you’re worried about Tanner but so far everything checks out fine. The EEG was normal except for that one spot. And it’s probably nothing. In fact, Dr. Calutto thought it was just some type of unusual sleep pattern. Tanner was mumbling in his sleep at that point so it may have been nothing more than a very strong dream image.”
“I wasn’t dreaming,” Tanner said. “I wasn’t even asleep.”
“Oh, you weren’t?” Eric said, teasingly skeptical.
“No,” Tanner said. “I heard everything you and that other doctor said. You said something about somna ... something, and the other guy was talking about R-E-M. I couldn’t figure out what a singing group had to do with anything.”
Eric frowned. “R-E-M isn’t a group, Tanner,” he said slowly. “At least not in this case. We were referring to a level of sleep.”
Jennifer caught the cautious tone in Eric’s voice and her heart started to thump wildly.
“And I was talking about somnambulism,” Eric added.
“Yeah! That was the word!” Tanner said. “What is that?”
“It’s a term for sleepwalking,” Eric said, clearly puzzled. “You heard all that, Tanner?” His face was a picture of bewilderment and concern.
Tanner nodded. “Well, most of it anyway. I knew you were seeing something funny on the machine but I was talking to my dad and he said not to worry about it. So I heard most of what you said, except for when I was listening to my dad.”
Eric gaped at Tanner.
Jennifer felt all the blood in her body sink to her feet. The room began to swim, the walls appearing to waver. Then the walls turned to darkness and marched inward. With a little whimper, Jennifer half sat, half fell into the chair behind her.