“You’ll see her when she wakes up if she’s willing to see you.” The rage in Anjali’s expression suddenly turned into such bewilderment that he could barely stand it. “How could you? Couldn’t you have simply told her what you planned to do?”
“She would not have allowed it. I had to get to the Commandant before the press conference, and we both know she would have resisted the idea. I did not have two or three hours to spend fighting with her.”
“How do you know she would have fought you? Because you wouldn’t have allowed it if your positions had been reversed?” Anjali’s cheeks flushed red with anger. “What if Sophie had had an allergic reaction to the drug? Or if the dosage was too much for her system so soon after the dysentery? She could have gone into cardiac arrest. You could have killed her!”
Michael shook his head. “I did the wrong thing, and I have admitted to this. But I did not put Sophie’s life in danger. I would die before I allowed that to happen.”
“How are you going to manage after you return to the US?” Anjali demanded. “Sophie works for a frontline aid agency. She faces danger every time she goes to the field. You’re going to fly with her on every trip? Hold her back when she needs to enter a slum or a refugee camp? Prevent her from walking among people who have deadly diseases? Drug her when she doesn’t do your bidding?” Michael flinched away from her words. The thought of Sophie in peril was intolerable. “This isn’t just what Sophie does for a living – this is Sophie! If you love her as much as you say, you have to learn to deal with this.”
“No, I will not do those things. I will find a way to cope with these new realities in my life,” he said shakily. “I love her, Anjali. Please believe me.” Michael turned away, afraid his emotions would overwhelm him. “You can take my medical license if you wish. But I cannot live without her anymore.”
Anjali was silent for a moment, arms crossed. “I’ll have your dinner brought to this room. You’ll stay in here tonight. You will not leave this room except to use the washroom. I’m putting a guard on the door.
“If Sophie wants to talk to you when she wakes up, you’ll be escorted to the infirmary. You will have a short period of time to talk things out. Then you’ll be brought back here for the night. She will stay in the infirmary, and you will stay in this room until 2 p.m. tomorrow when she is released from quarantine. What you two do after that is your own business. The infirmary will be yours to sleep in again should you no longer be welcome in Sophie’s bed.”
Michael nodded, not trusting himself to answer. Anjali turned to leave, then stopped.
“You fucked up. Sophie loves you so much. She’s waited for you all these years, although she’d never admit it. Then, when you finally get together, the first time – the very first time – you have to make a difficult decision, you take her out of the equation in the most brutal, high-handed way imaginable.” He stood with his head down. “You don’t deserve her,” she said. “And if I have my way, you’re going to spend the next decade on your knees groveling to get her back.”
Anjali left the room. A few minutes later, someone put a tray of food on the bedside table. He didn’t look up to see who it was. Shortly after, Sevastian came to the door, looked in at Michael, then took up his post outside the room. He couldn’t look the guard in the face. Of course, she’d asked one of the Soviets to watch him. The irony would appeal to her.
He lay down on the bed, ignoring the food. The sheets and pillow had a whiff of Sophie on them. He closed his eyes and waited.
-
Sophie started waking around 10 p.m. It took several tries to open her eyes and keep them open. She looked around the room – she was in the infirmary at the base camp, she realized – and found Anjali, masked and gloved, at her bedside. She looked at her friend for a moment, then pushed herself up on her elbows.
“Mish-el.” The word was barely intelligible.