Chương 11
“Claire may need somewhere to stay.”
“She has somewhere.”
“Sam.”
“My house has three bedrooms.”
“You live ninety minutes away.”
“So?”
“She just had surgery.”
“So drive carefully.”
Daniel almost smiled.
“You planning to order her around?”
“I’m planning to make soup and pretend I’m not hovering.”
“That might be worse.”
“Probably.”
Daniel heard a cabinet close on the other end.
Then Sam said, “Does she know you called me?”
“No.”
“Tell her.”
“Before I show up.”
“I know.”
“And Daniel?”
“Yeah?”
“If she chooses to go home to him, that’s her choice.”
Daniel’s jaw tightened.
“I know.”
“You don’t sound like you know.”
“I heard you.”
“Not the same thing.”
The call ended with a promise that Sam would remain available and, more importantly, remain where he was unless Claire asked for him.
Daniel returned upstairs.
Claire was awake again.
She held her phone low against the blanket, staring at a message.
“Ryan?”
Daniel asked.
She nodded.
“What now?”
“He wants to know if he can bring me clothes.”
“That seems reasonable.”
“I hate that it seems reasonable.”
Daniel pulled the chair closer.
“What does he want to bring?”
“Yoga pants, the blue sweater, toiletries.”
“Sounds like a hostage negotiator with access to your closet.”
Claire gave him a tired look.
“You’re not funny.”
“I’m a little funny.”
Her eyes returned to the phone.
“He also asked if I want the nursing pillow.”
Daniel’s expression softened.
“You do?”
“Yes.”
“Then say yes.”
Claire stared at the message.
“It feels like giving him something.”
“Claire.”
She looked up.
“Needing your own stuff is not forgiveness.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
She let out a long breath.
“No.”
Daniel leaned back.
“Then borrow my confidence until yours works again.”
She typed a short reply.
Yes.
Please leave the bag with the desk.
She hesitated before sending it.
Then she pressed the screen.
Daniel watched her face.
“That hurt?”
“More than it should.”
“No such thing.”
Claire looked at him.
“You’re getting disturbingly emotionally literate.”
“I’m going to blame the coffee.”
By noon, Madeline had been taken off respiratory support.
The neonatologist described her progress as encouraging but cautioned that they still wanted observation because of the difficult delivery.
Claire listened carefully.
She asked about oxygen deprivation.
She asked about feeding.
She asked what signs might suggest neurological injury.
The doctor answered without making promises.
Most of Madeline’s current signs were reassuring.
They would continue monitoring.
Claire nodded as if taking instructions at work.
After the doctor left, she sat in silence.
Daniel waited.
“I hate the word reassuring,” she finally said.
“Why?”
“Because it’s not yes.”
“No.”
“It’s not no either.”
“No.”
She stared through the glass toward her daughter.
“I used to think doctors had answers.”
“They have better guesses.”
“That is not comforting.”
“I know.”
A transport aide brought Claire back to her room.
On the way, they passed a woman laughing into her phone beside a vending machine.
Claire felt an unreasonable flash of anger.
How could anybody laugh in a hospital?
Two seconds later she hated herself for thinking it.
The world had not agreed to stop because she had almost died.
Back in the room, a large gray duffel bag waited beside the chair.
Ryan had delivered it.
He had also included a white paper bag from the bakery Claire liked.
Inside was a blueberry muffin, still wrapped, and a note in his handwriting.
I know you probably don’t want anything from me.
I didn’t know what else to bring.
I’m sorry.
Claire read it once.
Then again.
She set it face down.
Daniel unzipped the duffel.
“He packed your slippers.”
Claire looked.
The old green slippers had a tear near one toe.
“They’re ugly.”
“They’re horrifying.”
“I love them.”
“I know.”
She touched the sweater folded on top.
Ryan had packed carefully.
Too carefully.
The toiletries were in a plastic bag.
Her charger was wrapped neatly around itself.
He had even included the lip balm she kept in the bathroom drawer.
“I hate this,” Claire whispered.
Daniel stopped unpacking.
“What?”
“That he knows me.”
Daniel looked at her.
“He knows where things are.”
“No.”
She shook her head.
“He knows what I’d want.”
“That doesn’t erase anything.”
“I know.”
“But?”
Claire picked up the lip balm.
“I wish he were easier to hate.”
Daniel sat down.
“Most people are.”
She gave him a faint smile.
The hospital social worker arrived shortly afterward.
Her name was Teresa Vaughn, and she wore red glasses and carried a tablet covered in stickers.
She asked Daniel whether Claire wanted privacy.
Claire said yes.
Daniel left without protest.
Teresa sat beside the bed.
“I talk to many patients after emergency deliveries.”
Claire nodded.
“Okay.”
“Some because they need transportation.”
Another nod.
“Some because they need childcare resources.”
Claire waited.
“And some because the circumstances around the emergency raise concerns about whether home feels safe.”
Claire’s expression changed.
“Ryan didn’t hit me.”
“I didn’t say he did.”
“He’s not violent.”
“Okay.”
Claire folded her hands.
Teresa did not rush.
“Do you feel safe going home with him?”
“Yes.”
The answer came too quickly.
Teresa noticed.
Claire noticed that she noticed.
“I mean physically.”
“That’s not the only kind of safe.”
Claire looked toward the window.
Traffic moved along the road beyond the parking garage.
“I don’t think he’d hurt me.”
“Do you think he would prevent you from getting medical care?”
Claire’s throat tightened.
“He already did.”
“He left.”
“That’s not the same as preventing me.”
Teresa tilted her head slightly.
“Did you have access to a vehicle?”
“No.”
“Did he know you needed care?”
“I told him.”
“Did he discourage you from calling for help?”
Claire looked down.
“He said the neighbors would think something happened.”
Teresa made a note.
Claire’s jaw tightened.
“I don’t want this turned into something it isn’t.”
“What do you think I’m turning it into?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then tell me what you’re afraid I’ll call it.”
Claire stared at her.
May you like
The question felt invasive.
It also felt accurate.
