The Seven-Year Pain

On the evening of our seventh wedding anniversary, our family of three went camping on a mountaintop. Midway through, my husband, Alger, got a call and drove off. In the middle of the night, our son developed acute meningitis. I carried him down the mountain to the hospital, calling and texting my husband repeatedly. The call went through at dawn, and a young woman’s voice said, "Alger is still asleep. He was exhausted last night. I'll let him know you called." Touching my son's already ice-cold face, I said, "Divorce, or death. Choose one." ... After my son's cremation, I held the urn in my arms. It was the same size and weight as when he was born. It had been three days since he left me. From the hospital to the funeral home, to informing relatives, friends, and colleagues, I went through it all numbly. It wasn't until I held my son's ashes that I shed the first tear. In the past three days, I heard a lot of complaints about Alger, saying that as a father, he was neither present during the emergency nor at the funeral, which was simply outrageous. As the best neurosurgeon in the city, Alger had lived his life surrounded by flowers and praise. This was the first time he had been condemned by everyone. However, it didn't matter anymore. We had been married for seven years. People talked about the seven-year itch, but I didn't feel itchy, only pain, a heart-wrenching pain. We were high school classmates and went to the same medical school. I liked him back then, and we finally got together before graduation. He said I was like a scalpel that he wanted to hold in his hand for the rest of his life. I believed him. At that time, I only felt the sweetness and never thought that a knife could pierce the heart. After graduation, Alger and I interned at the hospital where my father was the director. We worked our way up from residents to chief residents to attending physicians. By the time my father retired, he was already the youngest deputy chief physician and a renowned neurosurgeon. He became busier and busier, with endless surgeries and seminars to attend. I switched to an administrative position to take care of his life and our baby son. I thought we would be like this forever, until his childhood sweetheart, Lily, came to our hospital for further studies. They became inseparable, even taking Lily with them on business trips for surgeries. Alger came home later and later, and our relationship deteriorated. He would come home every day after our son had fallen asleep, and by the time our son woke up, he would be out the door again. My son hadn't seen his father for months and always asked, "Where's Dad?" Initially, I thought he was just busy. Until the rumors reached my ears, and I confronted him. Alger explained that Lily was just his childhood neighbor, and he just wanted to teach her more. I chose to believe him. I must have been dreaming then, and now I woke up. I found Michell, our mutual classmate. He was a famous divorce lawyer, specializing in divorce lawsuits. At our wedding, when he toasted us, Michell wished that we would never need his professional services. Alger and I laughed and replied, "You too." It turned out that our wishes didn't come true. On the contrary, they were all jinxes. Last year, Michell had a heart attack while having dinner with me. I gave him first aid on the spot and sent him to the hospital, asking the best specialists to save his life. Now, it was my turn. Michell gave me the divorce agreement and asked me to sign it. He patted his chest and said, "Leave it to me. I'm a professional at divorce lawsuits! If that bastard Li gets to keep even a pair of underwear, I'll eat my hat!" I twitched the corners of my mouth, pretending to laugh. I trusted him. After all, most of the family's assets were left to me by my father. Alger had invested almost all the money he earned in his professional development, flying abroad for further studies. I went back home with the divorce agreement. My son's toys were still scattered on the floor: his favorite Ultraman, the little yellow duck he had to have when taking a bath... I carefully packed up my son's things, sat on his little bed, and called Alger again. No one answered for the first ten minutes. Ten minutes later, the call finally connected. "Hi, sister-in-law, it's Lily. Alger is in surgery right now and can't answer the phone." I was about to say that I would call back after the surgery when she said in a sweet and fake voice, "Oh, silly me, Alger never lets anyone disturb him during surgery, but you're not just anyone, sister-in-law. I'll go get him now." I could practically hear the abacus beads hitting my face through the phone. I knew Lily's little tricks all too well. Alger never let anyone disturb him during surgery, no matter who it was! Otherwise, he would blow his top and wouldn't give anyone face. But... I didn't care anymore. I waited patiently for five minutes, and Alger's suppressed roar came from the phone, "Jane, what are you doing? Don't you know I'm in surgery? Ten seconds, spit it out!" I sneered and replied, "The divorce agreement is on the table. Come back and sign it." After hanging up the phone, I projected photos and videos of my son from birth to a few days ago onto the screen, playing them on a loop until dawn. On the seventh day after my son's death, I saw Alger again. I went to ask the director for a long leave. I planned to travel around with my son's photos after the divorce was finalized. The director was an old friend of my father's and readily agreed. Then he said with concern, "Jane, you're still young. It's good to go out and about. You'll get over it." I was about to say goodbye when there was a knock on the door. Alger walked in. The director joked, "Alger, you're eager to pick up your wife." Alger glanced at me indifferently and went straight to the director to report on his work. I shook my head and said goodbye to the director. Alger stopped me. "Wait for me outside." "Okay." I closed the door and vaguely heard him asking the director for some kind of quota. A quota to stay in the hospital? For his childhood sweetheart? To my surprise, I felt nothing but indifference. So what? All I wanted now was for him to sign the divorce agreement! This wait lasted until dinnertime. I was getting impatient and was about to leave when Alger and the director finally came out. Alger's face didn't look so good. It seemed that the talk hadn't gone well. The director was still smiling and asked me to join them for dinner, saying that it was a gathering for Alger's neurosurgery department. Alger saw that I didn't want to go and pulled me aside by the sleeve. "Jane, you have to come to the dinner later." "Why?" "Isn't the director an old friend of your father's? He watched you grow up. It would be better if you were there." "What for?" "Lily's training is coming to an end. If she doesn't get a position here, she'll have to go back to that shabby hospital in the county. The director has to approve it." I smiled. So he wanted to use my father's connections to get his childhood sweetheart a position? "Okay." I changed my mind and agreed. I wanted to see how this big man, who always prided himself on his integrity and claimed that he didn't rely on my father, would lower himself for his childhood sweetheart. ***** Alger's entire department was there, and they naturally let me ride in the same car as him. I habitually opened the passenger door, only to see Lily sitting there, applying lipstick while looking in a compact mirror. Alger noticed that I wasn't getting in the car and explained, "Lily gets carsick. She'll be fine in the passenger seat." I didn't say anything. Lily said apologetically, "I'm sorry, sister-in-law. I forgot that the passenger seat is yours. I'll get down." As she spoke, she even dry-heaved a little. The car hadn't even started, and she was already carsick. I said it was fine and sat in the back seat. If it had been before, I might have argued. Now, I didn't care. Even if there was a dog in the passenger seat, I wouldn't care. From the back seat, I looked at half of Alger's face through the rearview mirror. This was an angle I had never seen before. He still looked as handsome and high-spirited as he did in our youth, like when he stood on the podium and said that his dream was to be a great doctor, that his hands were born to hold a scalpel, to save thousands of patients. In the end, what did he hold, and who did he save? Our son? Me? Or his childhood sweetheart? I shook my head, looked out the window, and all I could hear was Lily's chattering, constantly complimenting how well Alger had performed a certain surgery, how handsome he looked holding a scalpel, how his technique was unparalleled in China... We arrived at a farmhouse restaurant. Two large tables were just enough to accommodate Alger's entire department, including the interns. Naturally, Alger sat next to the director, and Lily naturally sat next to him. I saw Alger frown and whisper something to Lily, who then looked aggrieved and moved half her butt away from the chair as if to change seats. I didn't give her the chance and sat down in a random seat. I still recognized some of the senior doctors in the department, but not the younger doctors and interns. After all, Alger had become very sensitive later on and didn't want people to say that he relied on connections. He desperately downplayed the fact that he was the former director's son-in-law and refused to let me meet his colleagues. I was sitting next to a young male intern who diligently helped me wipe the table and chopsticks. I thanked him, and his face flushed with excitement. The intern asked, "Are you a new intern in our department?" Did I look like I was in my early twenties? I gave a polite smile without answering. A senior doctor next to me reminded him, "This is Jane, Dr. Li's wife." "Ah..." The male intern dropped his chopsticks, and the few young female doctors next to him gasped and covered their mouths, all looking at Lily. I could hear them whispering, "Isn't Dr. Zhang Dr. Li's wife?" "I think so. They stayed together when they went on that exchange program." Silence fell over the room. Their whispers were only meant to be heard by themselves, but the entire table could hear them. Alger came over with a glass of red wine. "Jane, you can have this." He took the opportunity to pour me a glass of wine and whispered, "Lily fainted in the bath that day, and I just went to take care of her. Don't overthink it." "I'm not." "I know you will, but the truth is..." "I said I'm not overthinking it." I interrupted him, not wanting to hear his flimsy excuses. "I'm hungry. Let's order." I wanted to get him back to sign the papers as soon as possible. This had dragged on for too long. The director chimed in, "Yes, yes, let's order. I'm hungry too. I'm old and can't stand being hungry. Back in the day, when I was on the front lines, I could go three days and nights without leaving the operating table." The director told his stories, and naturally, there was a chorus of compliments. After a few rounds of drinks, Alger raised his glass to the director. "Director, to you." Alger, who never touched alcohol because he knew it would cause his hands to tremble and he wanted to perform more surgeries, downed the glass of wine in one gulp. The director gave him face and finished his glass as well. Alger continued, "Director, as you know, our department has always been the busiest, and we're always short-staffed. I have a small request." Alger paused, hesitating before he spoke. After all, he had never asked for favors before. Well, I wasn't above asking for favors. I was always the one doing it, so he could keep his pride and stand tall. The director put down his glass and patted Alger on the shoulder. "I know. You don't have to say it. I'll approve it." Alger was stunned. He hadn't even said it yet. Lily blurted out in delight, "Really?" The director sighed and patted Alger on the shoulder again. "No matter how busy your department is, I have to approve this leave of yours." Alger was dumbfounded. He wasn't asking for leave; he was asking for a position for Lily. "Saving lives is important, but your son just passed away. I understand. Speaking of which, I have to criticize you. You should have come back for something this important." The director looked at me sympathetically. Alger clutched his glass and asked in a trembling voice, "Director, did you just say that my son... passed away?" The room fell silent. "You don't know that your son had acute meningitis and is gone?"