Part 2<\/p>\n
\u201cMichael, I\u2019m coming with you today.\u201d<\/p>\n
He stopped at the mirror, adjusting his tie too carefully. \u201cSweetheart, we talked about this. The doctors said that too many visitors stress her out. Let me handle it.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAh, all right.\u201d<\/p>\n
He turned and kissed my forehead, the way he always did when he wanted a conversation to be over. \u201cAnd you\u2019re an angel for caring. But the drive is brutal, and you\u2019ve been exhausted. Let me carry this one for you.\u201d<\/p>\n
I let him leave. I always let him leave.<\/p>\n
That afternoon, I wrote another check for three thousand dollars and pushed it across the kitchen counter.<\/p>\n
\u201cThe rehab wing again?\u201d I asked Michael.<\/p>\n
\u201cThey\u2019re charging us for the physical therapy now. Insurance won\u2019t touch it.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cMichael, that\u2019s the fourth check this month.\u201d<\/p>\n
He held my face in both hands like I was something precious. \u201cYou\u2019re saving her life. You know that, right? My mother is going to walk again because of you.\u201d<\/p>\n
I wanted to believe him. I needed to.<\/p>\n
But that night, I found a receipt in his jacket pocket for a restaurant I had never heard of, sixty miles in the opposite direction from the hospital. And on his collar was that new perfume again, sharp and floral, nothing like mine.<\/p>\n
The next day, I called the hospital myself. A young nurse answered.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019d like to check on Patricia in the rehab wing, please. This is her daughter-in-law.\u201d<\/p>\n
There was a long silence. \u201cMa\u2019am, no one has visited her today. Are you sure you have the right ward?\u201d<\/p>\n
The dial tone buzzed against my ear.<\/p>\n
My thumb stayed pressed to the red button long after the screen went dark.<\/p>\n
In my other hand, the shirt I had been folding sagged loose, its collar slipping over my fingers and pooling at my wrist like something already discarded.<\/p>\n
That evening, I tried to ask Michael in the same calm way I always did.<\/p>\n
\u201cMichael, when did you last see your mother?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThis morning, honey. Why?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThe nurse said no one visited today.\u201d<\/p>\n
He laughed. \u201cBabe, those nurses rotate every twelve hours. Half of them don\u2019t know which patient is which. The doctors specifically asked me not to bring anyone else right now. You have to trust me.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI do trust you.\u201d<\/p>\n
I said it like a prayer, as if saying it aloud could make it true again.<\/p>\n
Three days later, Michael zipped his suitcase beside the bed.<\/p>\n
\u201cThree-day conference in Denver. I\u2019ll check my phone whenever I can.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cTell your mom I love her.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAlways do.\u201d Michael kissed me and left before the coffee cooled.<\/p>\n
That afternoon, my phone rang while I was folding his shirts. The number was not saved.<\/p>\n
\u201cIs this Patricia\u2019s daughter-in-law?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes, who is this?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThis is Dr. Hensley. I\u2019ve been trying to reach Michael for hours. His phone goes straight to voicemail. Your number was listed as Patricia\u2019s secondary emergency contact.\u201d<\/p>\n
My fingers froze on the collar in my hand. \u201cWhat\u2019s happening? Is Patricia all right?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHer condition has worsened significantly. You need to come now. And ma\u2019am, there are some things we need to discuss when you arrive. Things about her care.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat things?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cPlease. Just come.\u201d<\/p>\n
I grabbed my keys, purse, and coat all at once.<\/p>\n