Daniel slipped his phone back into his pocket, and Karen watched him do it. She looked younger than thirty six just then, standing beside a Buick with 190,000 miles on it, holding a parking receipt she had already folded into a neat square.
“I can stay,” Karen said. “If you want me to.”
“Go home if you want.”
She shook her head. “I think I should stay.”
The hospital doors opened again, and a nurse called for someone by the wrong first name. Karen smiled at the mistake, then looked back at us.
“Elena, if Mom asks me to do something strange, I’ll call
you.”
That was the first promise anyone had made me that day without attaching a condition to it.
By two o’clock, I was in the preadmission office with Daniel beside me, answering questions about medications, allergies, and emergency contacts. He carried the hospital bag in one hand and kept checking that the car seats were still in the Buick.
The clerk slid another form across the desk.
“Just this one.”
I signed where she pointed.
Daniel leaned over the bag. “I packed the blue blanket.”
“The blue one with the little stars?”
“That one.”
“You packed Luna’s hat too?”
“I packed both hats.”
I looked at him. “You are taking this very seriously.”
“I have been given a list.”
“By whom?”
He pulled a folded sheet from the front pocket.
“The nurse.”
That made me laugh, and for half a minute the room was ordinary again.
Then the door opened.
Vivian stood there holding a gift basket wrapped in clear plastic. She had not called. She had not
“I thought you might need fruit,” she said.
Daniel straightened. “Mom.”
She walked to the empty chair and set the basket down.
“I know, I know. You are busy.”
I looked at the fruit, then at her.
“We are finishing admission.”
“Of course.”
She smoothed the front of her cardigan and turned to Daniel.
“I only wanted to make sure Elena had what she needed.”
“I have what I need.”
Vivian nodded. “That is good.”
The clerk kept working at her computer. Vivian waited until she had finished typing before speaking again.
