The Time Remaining

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93 18 By the time Gilchrist reaches Raya’s room it is almost nine o’clock. His intention was to come much earlier, but a deadline for his column forced him to work through the afternoon and the dinner hour. Now as he sits in his usual chair and studies Raya’s face, which he invariably does to see some change, some sign that wasn’t there the night before or the night before that, he takes her hand in his and begins the one-sided conversation that has now become not simply a ritual but something he needs to do daily for the day to be complete and not a waste. “I spent time with the printer, Raya. We’re going ahead with the publication of the journal. I told the printer that he should print the whole edition as planned, and then we’ll print an extra couple of thousand for me to plant where they will have the most influence. I’ll send them all over the world to editors, prime ministers, heads of state, dissidents, whatever. I’ll make sure that this is your uncle’s memorial, Raya. And after I do that I’m going to devote my column to the Palestinian question on a regular basis. I see what has to be done. I went to the warehouse early this morning and looked over the books and the papers that the firefighters had pulled from the house. Almost everything was damaged by water, but I found myself reading stuff I’d never seen before, mostly from Europe, about the Middle East. It opened my eyes, really. And then I went to see the printer and read the galleys of the journal from page 1 to the end. It’s a kind of testament to everything that Tab stood for.” Even as he keeps holding her hand, Gilchrist feels himself sliding slowly into sleep. It’s been a long day, he tells himself, longer than he thought. He places her hand gently on the sheet, stands, and walks slowly out of the room. He is waiting at the elevator when he hears someone call his name, a nurse. “Mr. Gilchrist?” says the nurse, walking toward him. 94 | The Time Remaining “Yes.” “I think you should wait here for a moment. I’ve placed a call to Dr. Voss.” “What happened? What’s wrong?” “I just was making my night check of Miss Tabry, and I . . .” She stops. “And?” “I noticed that her eyes were open. They were open, and she blinked. And then I saw she was trying to say something, but there was no voice, just her lips shaping a word. I looked very closely and leaned over in case I might hear something. Then I called Dr. Voss. He’s coming directly over.” ...