Part 7: The edge of the cliff

“I think I’m going to quit.”

Molly picked at her waffles, keeping her eyes down. On the other side of the table, Lizzie’s fork clamored on her plate.

“Quit?” Lizzie said. “I thought you liked work.” She waited for Molly to say something, but Molly just kept staring at breakfast. “Dad just told me a few weeks ago how you’ve been gushing about your cases. Like that guy you practically jumped on to revive when you realized he was having a heart attack.”

“Yeah, well, a few weeks ago things were different.”

Next to them, Molly’s nephew Joshua dropped a crayon on the floor. He looked down at it from his booster seat, reaching out like it would fly back into his hand. Keeping her eyes on Molly, Lizzie picked it up and handed it back to him.

“Different how?”

Molly shifted in her seat. “I’m just not making the difference I thought I would, okay?”

“Not making a difference? You’re saving people’s lives!”

“Not everyone’s.”

Molly risked a glance at Lizzie. Her eyebrows crunched together just like mom’s used to when she had to explain something painful, like why the pet goldfish was floating upside down in his tank.

“A few weeks ago a patient came in and I missed something and now he’s dead,” Molly said.

“I— I’m so sorry.”

“He had kids.” Molly dropped her forehead in her hands. “I can’t stop thinking about them. What did his mom say to them when she found out that not only was her daughter-in-law in critical care, but the son she just talked to suddenly died? Did they get to the hospital before someone told them, ‘Sorry, but the doctor didn’t see the aneurysm on the CT scan?’”

Laughter and a monotonous chatter from the tables around them filled the silence between them. The waitress came by to fill up Lizzie’s coffee, and Lizzie said, “Thanks.” She waited for the waitress to leave before turning back to Molly. “So it was the doctor’s fault?”

Molly’s head shot up. “What?”

“You said the doctor missed the aneurysm. But before you said it was you—”

“Just because the doctor checked him out doesn’t mean I didn’t have a responsibility—”

“But aren’t aneurysm’s basically unpredictable unless you see them on a scan?”

Molly rolled her eyes and stared out the window. That’s what her coworkers kept telling her. What Irene kept telling her. It didn’t change how she felt though.

“If the doctor didn’t see anything on the scan,” Lizzie continued, “there was no way for you to know. Right? Unless you can suddenly predict the future.”

She gave a nervous laugh, but Molly’s stomach crunched. Despite how much she loved her family, she’d never told Lizzie or dad about the ice. They’d have her institutionalized for making such outrageous claims. Or worse, they’d believe her and realize she could have done something the day mom died.

“What’s this really about?” Lizzie asked.

“A dead patient isn’t enough?”

Lizzie took a deep breath. “Not to be blunt, but you know more than most that people die in hospitals.” Lizzie tried to catch her eye, but Molly kept looking at the trees blowing outside the cafe. “You can’t save everyone.”

“Oh, that’s what they forgot to teach us in nursing school.” Molly smacked herself in the forehead. “Thanks, now it’s all better.”

“You can’t save mom, either.”

That made Molly turn back. “What does that mean?”

Lizzie pursed her lips together, eyes narrowed as she sized Molly up. “Do you know how many people die of cancer every day?”

With a raised eyebrow, Molly leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms. “A lot?”

“Over fifteen hundred. Do you know how many of the patients I meet end up dying while I’m trying to find them a cure?”

Molly bit her lip.

“The majority. And do you know how many of those deaths I blamed myself for?”

“Okay, I get it.”

“No, you don’t,” Lizzie said, shaking her head. Grabbing a pen from her purse, she jotted down a number from her phone onto a napkin and slid it across the table.

“What’s this?” Molly asked.

“When I started doing my work in the lab, I was obsessed. Find a cure. Get it out there. Save everyone.” She let out a harsh laugh. “People have been doing that work for decades, and I thought I’d find it in my first year. It got so bad that I barely left the lab. And I was severely depressed.”

“I didn’t know that,” Molly said.

“Well I didn’t say anything. I think dad knew something was wrong, but I don’t think he knew how bad it got. But Greg knew. He stuck with me despite how much I tried to push him away.” She drank her coffee and continued. “Anyway, he made me go get help. And it took awhile, but I finally saw it.”

“Saw what?”

“The lie I’d been telling myself. It was like I thought I’d be able to make up for it. You know? Like, maybe I couldn’t have saved mom, but I could at least save all these other people from dying.” She took a deep, shuddering breath. “But every day I didn’t discover that cure, fifteen hundred more people died. And I kept thinking how if I worked just a little harder, I could put a stop to that, or at least put a dent in it. And if someone before me had just worked a little bit harder, maybe we’d still have mom.”

A tear slid down Molly’s cheek. She swiped it away.

“Patients die, Molly. You can’t give yourself a tally for every patient who lives and take a hundred away for every patient that dies. Math like that leads to the edge of a steep cliff, and it’s damn near impossible to climb back up once you fall off.”

“So this is?” Molly asked, pointing to the paper.

“The number for my psychiatrist.”

Molly shook her head. “I don’t need a psychiatrist.”

“Then what do you need? To go back in time? Save that patient?”

Molly looked away again.

“You can’t do the impossible, Molly. If you’re feeling guilty about mom, the guilt’s always going to be there, even if you quit. It’ll find other ways to show up.”

“So you don’t think I should quit?”

“I think you should try getting help first. You might find that quitting isn’t necessary. Or maybe you’ll find it is, and if you do then I’ll support you one hundred percent. But get the help either way.” Lizzie glanced at Joshua who continued to scribble away in his coloring book. “It’s the best thing I’ve ever done for myself.”

As Lizzie took another sip of coffee, Joshua looked up at her, his large brown eyes reflecting the trees in the windows. Molly stared down at the paper as if waiting for it to make the first move.

“You don’t have to call if you don’t want to,” Lizzie said. “But would you at least take it? Think about it?”

With a sigh, Molly took the paper and put it in her wallet. “I’ll think about it.”

Lizzie smiled. “Thanks.”

“I’m glad you’re doing better,” Molly said, smiling back. “Really, I am. I’m just not sure that’s my problem.”

Lizzie reached across the table, taking Molly’s hand, and squeezed. “Well, you never know until you try, do you?”

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