The Gender Game 5: The Gender Fall(41)

Dr. Tierney sighed and squatted down until we were at eye level. “Sometimes, some patients who receive this kind of surgery are prone to emotional reactions that are illogical, or not rooted in anything rational. It’s perfectly normal, but before I agree to let you do anything, I need to know: why are you being so stubborn about this?”

I hesitated, trying to determine why I had been so upset by the idea of staying in bed. It was difficult to put it into words.

I took a deep breath and then exhaled. “I don’t know how long I’ve been in this bed, but I can tell it’s been a while. I need to get out and move… even if it’s just a little bit. Please? Please just… let me? For a few minutes?” Also, I don’t want Viggo to see me in this stupid bed again, I thought, but didn’t feel the need to add that part out loud. I knew it was a point of vanity, but I didn’t care. I just wanted to show him I was well, so he could stop worrying and feel better.

Dr. Tierney’s gaze was hard and searching, but I met it straight on, letting my resolve give me strength. Finally, she sighed and nodded. “After I check you out,” she said, her voice full of warning.

I smiled and nodded, folding my hands obediently in my lap.

“What’s your name?” she asked, standing up.

“Violet Bates,” I replied without hesitation.

“When were you born?”

“September 7th, two hundred and eighty-one years after The Fall.”

“How old is your brother?”

“Sixteen, but he’ll turn seventeen at the end of the month.” I felt a pang—the end of the month might have already passed, for all I knew. It had only been fifteen days off when I had gone to the palace for my showdown with Tabitha. Suddenly I was overwhelmed with worry for him. I pushed it aside for the moment, knowing I needed to prove I was all right before I could do anything.

“What day is it today?”

I screwed up my face, and gave a shrug. “I have no idea—how many days have I been unconscious?”

Dr. Tierney smiled softly as she scribbled things down on her notebook. “From what I understand? It’s been four and a half days since your fight, two and half since the surgery.”

I counted it off in my head. “August 20th? 21st?”

Her smile grew as she set the notebook down. “It’s the twentieth,” she supplied as she moved closer. I followed her orders as she checked my reflexes, pupillary responses, and the functionality of the patch in my eardrum. I asked her questions as she went, quizzing her on the injuries, how long it would take for them to heal, what she’d done to my skull… I couldn’t quite bring myself to ask why my hair was gone, though. I didn’t want to tell her how embarrassed I was.

Most of the checkup was painless, but I did hiss when she asked me to raise my arm over my head, and I quickly lowered my arm and placed my hand on my ribcage. “Well, they’re healing up as fast as we can expect,” she said. “You should be fine to walk. Just take it easy and slow, all right? Let’s get you up and moving.”

She bent down, and I gingerly put my arm over her shoulder, while she wrapped hers around my waist. I hadn’t noticed before how much shorter than me Dr. Tierney was, but my bruised ribs were incredibly glad of it now. With both of us working together, she eased me into a standing position. I swayed into her, glad she was there, as a wave of dizziness assailed my senses, making everything lean hard to the left. Dr. Tierney held me through it, and after a few seconds, the world righted itself.

“You okay?” she asked, concern thick in her voice.

I wasn’t exactly okay, but I would be damned if I was going to tell her that. She’d just send me back to bed.

“I’m good,” I replied. The look she gave me was filled with doubt, but I ignored it. “Let’s go.”

We made it to the door, moving painfully slowly, but I didn’t think I could move much faster than that. Together, we opened the door and stepped into the hall. I gazed around in wonder, as if I were seeing this place for the first time, even though I knew I had seen it before… and I wasn’t even sure how many times. Ahead, I could hear the welcome sound of Viggo’s voice.

The deep, comforting, authoritative sound bolstered my weakened strength, and I moved toward it, eager to see him. As I came out of the hall, Viggo continued talking, seeming not to notice me; but one by one, everyone sitting around the table looked up at me, their eyes widening. Viggo didn’t notice it at first, but after a moment, he paused, then shifted in his seat to look at me.

Everything I had gone through was worth it, just to see his face in that moment. I watched, as if in slow motion, as a tumble of emotions passed across his normally carefully composed face: pure shock, surprise—was that rueful, fond irritation?—all of them eclipsed very soon by one of his rare, brilliant smiles.