He was yelling, his face red, his hands clenched into fists. He didn’t look like a miserable patient, but like an enraged predator caught in a lie. And that rage frightened me more than the yelling. It was too real, too disproportionate to my innocent question.
I took a step back, feeling a chill run through me.
— I’m sorry, — I whispered. — I didn’t mean to.
— Get out, — he snarled, — leave me alone.
I slipped out of the room, closing the door behind me. His furious reaction was the last straw. This wasn’t the resentment of a disabled person; it was the fear of being exposed. And at that moment, I knew. I had to find out the truth. At any cost.
That same evening, after Dima fell asleep, I sat down at my laptop and ordered a small, almost unnoticeable camera with remote access from an online store. The camera arrived two days later. A small black cube that could easily be hidden anywhere.
I didn’t sleep all night, going over the plan in my head. It was simple and cruel. I felt like a traitor, but there was no turning back. In the morning, I entered the bedroom with the most miserable expression I could muster.
— Dima, darling, good morning.
— Morning, — he grumbled, still upset after our argument.
I sat on the edge of the bed.
— Dima, my mom just called. She’s not doing well at all. Her heart is acting up. She’s asking me to come.
His expression changed instantly. The resentment vanished, replaced by anxiety. Fake, as I now understood.
— How bad is it? What happened? What about me?
— I don’t know, she could barely speak. She’s crying, says her blood pressure is over two hundred. I have to go, Dima. It’s my mom. Her town is only a three-hour drive away. I’ll be gone for a couple of days, no more.
— A couple of days? — panic crept into his voice. — Annie, how will I manage here alone? What if something happens? Who will help me? Maybe you shouldn’t go?
I looked into his frightened eyes and felt sick. What a good actor he was.
— I have to, Dima, don’t worry. I’ll prepare everything. I’ll put food in the fridge. You’ll just need to heat it in the microwave. I’ll lay out your medicine by the hour. And I’ve asked Stas to drop by.
At the mention of Stas, his best friend, Dima relaxed a little. Stas visited us often, helping his friend, as he said. He would bring groceries, sometimes sit with Dima so I could run to the pharmacy or just get some fresh air.
— Stas is coming? Well, okay. If Stas will be here, then of course, go to your mom. She needs you more right now.
I started to demonstratively pack a bag, throwing in the first things I could find. My hands were shaking. Then I went to the kitchen to cook. I chopped salads, made cutlets, cooked soup. Everything as usual, everything for my beloved, helpless husband.
When Dima dozed off after lunch, it was time. I took the camera and went into the bedroom. In the corner of the room, we had a bookshelf with books I hadn’t had time to read in ages. I quickly tucked the tiny cube between volumes of classical literature, aiming the lens at the bed and most of the room. The camera was almost invisible.
I connected it to our Wi-Fi and checked the image on my phone. The picture was clear: Dima, sleeping in bed.
Before I left, I went to him.
— Well, I’m off. I’ll call you when I get there. Stas will drop by in the evening. You just rest, relax, don’t worry about me.
He took my hand with his weak hand, as I had always thought it was.
— Come back soon, Annie. I’ll miss you so much…
Comments are closed.