We had been sitting in the waiting room for almost fifteen minutes. Other patients were there, they were all looking the same: Pale faces, bald heads, and skinny bodies. On my left, my wife was sitting beside me and staring from the two big windows at whatever was happening outside. She was pale, bald, and skinny too, yet her angelic face and her blue eyes did not lose their charm. The large waiting room of the oncology clinic was meticulously organized. On the white walls, there were three small paintings that I could not understand. The alternating black and white seats made the room seem even larger. In the middle, there was a fancy low table made of glass, with a flower vase on top of it, and few health magazines that no one used.
“Anna,” I whispered. “I promise it is not what you’re thinking.”
She kept looking from the window, ignoring what I was saying.
“C’mon Anna, we’ve been together for seven years. Have I ever done that to you?”
“Then where were you last night?” she asked, whisper-shouting at me.
“I… can’t tell you,” I murmured.
She fixed her gaze at me for a long second, smirked sarcastically, then turned back to the window.
“I am trying to protect you!” I softly said while putting my hand on her leg.
“Protect me? By cheating on me?” she screamed in her high-peached voice, almost unaware of her tone, and aggressively pushed my hand, as if she were grossed out.
“I was not cheating on you!” I screamed back, with the exact same tone.
the patients simultaneously turned their heads towards us, all of a sudden. The judgmental look they were giving us made us realize how loud we were. However, Anna could not care less.
“You left me alone for the whole night. I was puking my guts out while you were having fun with whatever slut you were with!” she screamed, trying her best not to let her tears fall.
Everyone in our audience let a gasp out. I saw jaws dropping. The pale faces got paler, as if they all forgot their breaths held. The lady in reception quickly came to us and firmly asked us to lower our voices as we were bothering the other patients. I nodded and apologized on the behalf of the two of us.
“Just… go,” Anna said, without looking at me.
“No,” I responded.
“I don’t want you here.”
“I’m not leaving you alone,” I said while reaching for one of the magazines on the table.
She burst out laughing, ironically.
“I had to go yesterday, I can’t tell why or how or where, but I had to.”
“You couldn’t even pick up my calls?”
“I couldn’t.”
“You couldn’t even leave me a text?”
“I couldn’t,” I said again, without turning my eyes from the magazine.
“What could’ve been more urgent than your sick wife home alone?”
“I can’t tell you, and it’s for your own good,” I answered, trying my best to make her believe me.
“You’re either telling me, or I swear it’s over,” she said, looking me right in the eyes.
“What’s over?” I asked, confused but scared of what was coming.
“Us, our marriage, everything is over,” she answered, without even blinking once.
I was stressing, Anna never swore for nothing. But I could not tell her, it was not the right moment. What if she passes out? What if something happens to her?
“We’ll talk about it after your chemo session,” I said. “For now, just calm down.”
“Nope, you’re going to tell me now.”
My mouth became dry, my heartbeat raised, and my veins got tense. I could feel my body starting to sweat. I swallowed, put the magazine back on the table, gently took her hand, and said: “Your dad shot himself last night.”
