Chapter 4: The Doctor's Name
I kept my voice flat.
"Say that again."
"Dr.
Harlan Voss," Jess said.
"That's the name on Tyler's paperwork, right?"
I looked at Tyler.
"Is your doctor's name Harlan Voss?"
Something shifted in his expression.
"Yes.
Why?"
I put the call on speaker and set the phone on the table between us.
"Go ahead, Jess."
"I found him when I was researching the clinic," she said.
"I wanted to know who was reading your results, so I looked him up.
His license was suspended in Oregon fourteen months ago.
Misdiagnosis complaints.
Three of them."
Tyler's hands came apart on the table.
"That's not possible," he said.
"He came recommended.
My GP referred me."
"I know.
I looked at the clinic's website too.
His name isn't listed anymore.
They took it down sometime in the last few weeks." A pause.
"Tyler, I don't know if your results are wrong.
I don't know that.
But I think you need a second opinion before Thursday's appointment."
The kitchen was very quiet.
Tyler reached for the lab report.
He turned it over and looked at the clinic's letterhead, the address, the signature at the bottom.
His finger stopped under the name.
"He seemed completely legitimate," he said.
It wasn't a defense.
It was the sound of someone trying to understand.
"Legitimate-seeming people get away with things longer," Jess said quietly.
I watched Tyler's face.
He wasn't angry.
He looked like a man trying to hold very still while the ground reorganized itself beneath him.
"If the results are wrong—" I started.
"Then we find out Thursday," he said.
"From someone qualified."
"We cancel Thursday," I said.
"We find a different specialist.
Someone we verify ourselves."
He nodded slowly.
"Okay."
"I'll help," Jess said.
"I already started a list.
There's a clinic at the university hospital — they have a dedicated diagnostic unit.
I can call first thing tomorrow."
"You've already been doing all of this," I said.
"You're my sister."
Three words.
She said them like they were the only explanation needed, and they were.
After we hung up, Tyler and I sat at the table for a while without talking.
The lab report was still between us.
He picked it up eventually and folded it carefully, the way you handle something you're not sure whether to keep.
"I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner," he said.
"I know."
"I thought I was protecting you."
"I know that too."
"Are you angry?"
I thought about it honestly.
"I'm scared," I said.
"And I'm angry that I was scared alone without knowing why.
But I understand why you did it."
He set the folded paper down.
"What do you need from me right now?"
It was such a simple question.
I hadn't expected it.
"I need you to stop making decisions about my feelings without asking me first," I said.
"Even when you think you're being kind."
He held my gaze.
"That's fair."
"And I need you to let me come to every appointment from here on."
"Yes."
"And I need you to eat something, because neither of us has had dinner and it's almost nine o'clock."
Something in his face broke open slightly.
Not quite a smile.
Something more tired and more real than that.
He stood up and opened the refrigerator.
I watched him and thought: we don't know yet.
We don't know what Thursday will say, or what a real doctor will find, or how bad or not-bad this actually is.
We are standing inside a question that has no answer tonight.
But we were standing in it together now.
That was different from an hour ago.
My phone buzzed.
A text from Jess.
*University clinic has a cancellation slot Wednesday morning.
Should I book it?*
I typed back: *Yes.
Book it.*
Then, after a second, I added: *Thank you for fighting for us when we didn't know we needed it.*
Her reply came fast.
*That's what sisters are for.
Also — there's still one more thing I need to tell you.
Not tonight.
But soon.*
I stared at that message for a long moment.
Tyler set a plate on the table.
May you like
I put the phone down and didn't tell him what she'd written.
Not yet.
