Emily Carter Roiphe | Longreads | February 2018 | 14 minutes (3,466 words)
The Waiting Room
I was leaning on my husband’s shoulder one day as we were walking through a lobby that seemed a bit crowded for the part of New Mexico where we lived. On the soundtrack there was some desultory chatter and the hum of fluorescent lights.
“Where are we NOW?” I asked in exasperation.
“You had a brain aneurysm, sweetheart, you had brain surgery.”
“Is the surgery over?” I asked.
“Yes, for a whole day,” he said.
“So, we can go now?”
We’d been planning to go camping in Monument Valley, and I didn’t want to complicate our schedule. I’d had something wrong, but they fixed it, I felt fine, could we please get on with it? Then I saw his face. Usually, my husband is pretty cocky in public, thinking that he has me, and…
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