I always thought my husband’s long working hours were the price I had to pay for loving a man who was completely devoted to his work. However, an unexpected visit to the hospital showed me just how much of our shared future had already been decided without me. And I had to make a choice: save our marriage by following Ben’s plan, or finally start building a life of my own.
As Arnold’s eyes filled with tears, I was still holding the lunch bag I had prepared for Ben: his favorite sandwich, a slice of apple pie, and a little note tucked beneath the fork.
“You don’t have to take care of everyone. Let me take care of you, too.”
I had written it that morning.
Now I stood in the hospital hallway, looking at Arnold, Ben’s colleague, who clearly didn’t want to look me in the eyes.
“I’m so glad I found you,” I said. “Can you tell me where Ben is?”
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Arnold looked at me carefully.
Then his eyes suddenly filled with tears.
“He didn’t tell you anything, did he?”
Something tightened inside me.
“About what?”
Arnold glanced toward the nurses’ station. Two women immediately became unusually interested in their monitors.
I gripped the lunch bag tighter.
“Arnold.”
He swallowed hard.
“He’s leaving, Chelsea.”
For a moment, I forgot how to breathe.
“Where?”
The expression on his face changed immediately.
“No, Chelsea, no. I meant he’s leaving the hospital.”
The relief was so overwhelming that I had to lean against the counter.
Then confusion set in.
“What are you talking about?”
“He accepted another position.”
I stared at him in silence.
“Where?”
“In Oregon.”
The relief disappeared.
“What kind of job in Oregon?”
Arnold closed his eyes.
He had worked with Ben for many years and had eaten dinner at our family table so many times that I knew his silence meant trouble.
“Are you crying because he’s leaving?”
He wiped his cheek.
“He’s my best friend, Chelsea. I thought you knew.”
Ben and I had been married for eleven years.
All those years, I had shared him with the hospital.
He was a wonderful surgeon, and I had always been proud that the man I loved helped people survive the most difficult moments of their lives.
But over the past year, I had started preparing his dinner before I even had time to sit down for my own.
He missed Thanksgiving, our anniversary, and our daughter Olive’s eighth birthday.
Sometimes he didn’t come home at all.
“We’re short-staffed, honey. Don’t wait for me.”
When he finally went to bed, he looked so exhausted that I swallowed every complaint I had been carrying inside.
One night, I woke up and saw him sitting on the edge of the bed. His shoulders were shaking.
“Ben?”
He wiped his face and turned toward me.
