Chương 10
Ines looked at Mathilde, then back at the doctor.
“When?”
“If the remaining results support what we suspect, we would recommend correcting the obstruction soon.”
“How soon?”
“Within days, not weeks.”
Mathilde heard five weeks again.
The number had become a physical thing.
Dr. Benhamou must have seen something change in her face.
“We are treating what is in front of us now.”
Mathilde nodded.
It was not absolution.
It was direction.
Ines asked, “Is this because nobody brought me back?”
Dr. Benhamou did not rush.
“We cannot say exactly how different your kidney would look if you had returned ten days after the first visit.”
“Could it have been better?”
“Yes.”
Mathilde closed her eyes.
Ines went quiet.
The doctor continued.
“That does not mean your outcome will be poor.”
Ines stared at the blanket.
“But it could have mattered.”
“Yes.”
The word landed cleanly.
No softening.
No excuse.
Mathilde was grateful enough to nearly cry.
Madame Girard returned.
“Mr. Moreau currently has portal access.”
Mathilde’s head snapped toward her.
“Currently?”
“Yes.”
“Remove it.”
Ines looked at her.
Mathilde caught herself.
“Can we?”
Madame Girard turned to Ines.
“At your age, depending on the type of information and local rules, there are additional privacy considerations, but your legal guardians may still have access to portions of your record.”
Ines frowned.
“So he can see stuff?”
“Some information, yes.”
“Can I say I don’t want him to?”
“We can document your request and have the appropriate team review it.”
Ines looked at Mathilde.
“I want that.”
Mathilde nodded.
“Then we do that.”
Madame Girard made a note.
Mathilde’s phone vibrated again.
Marc.
This time she answered.
She stepped into the hall and closed the door behind her.
“What did Alain tell you?”
Marc inhaled sharply.
“You finally listened.”
“What did he tell you?”
“Where are you?”
“The hospital.”
“Is Ines there?”
“Yes.”
“Can I speak to her?”
“No.”
A pause.
“Mathilde.”
“Alain.”
Marc exhaled.
“He said Elise wasn’t born with the same obstruction.”
Mathilde leaned against the wall.
“What?”
“He said she developed kidney problems later.”
“Based on what?”
“Medical records.”
“Whose records?”
“Elise’s.”
“How does he have them?”
“Her mother sent him copies after she died.”
Mathilde closed her eyes.
“Why?”
“Because she blamed him.”
“For what?”
“For not being there.”
Mathilde heard footsteps behind her and moved farther down the corridor.
“What does any of this have to do with Ines?”
“I thought Elise’s condition proved a genetic link.”
“You thought.”
“Yes.”
“And then you found out it might not.”
“Yes.”
“When?”
Marc hesitated.
“Last week.”
Mathilde almost laughed.
“You met Alain a week ago and still didn’t bring Ines back.”
“I was going to.”
“When?”
“I don’t know.”
“Today?”
“No.”
“Tomorrow?”
“Mathilde.”
“You keep telling me you were going to do things after the moment when doing them mattered.”
“That isn’t fair.”
She closed her eyes.
“Then make it fair.”
Marc went silent.
Mathilde could hear his breathing.
Finally he said, “Alain told me Elise had been taking medication that affected her kidneys.”
The hallway seemed to tilt.
“What medication?”
“A painkiller.”
“What kind?”
“He didn’t know exactly.”
“Then how did he know it affected her kidneys?”
“He said her mother told him the doctors believed it contributed.”
“That is not the same thing as knowing.”
“I know.”
“No, Marc, I don’t think you do.”
He made a frustrated sound.
“I’m telling you what he told me.”
“Why didn’t you tell Claire?”
“Because she would turn it into another story about my father.”
“Was your father giving Elise the pills?”
Marc did not answer.
Mathilde straightened.
“Was he?”
“Yes.”
There it was.
Not a surprise anymore.
Just confirmation.
“What did you know at nineteen?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing?”
“I knew he gave her something sometimes.”
“Did you know it wasn’t prescribed to her?”
“I didn’t know what it was.”
“Did Elise tell you?”
Marc’s breathing changed.
Mathilde pressed the phone harder to her ear.
“Did she tell you?”
“She told me he gave her pills when she couldn’t sleep.”
“And you said nothing.”
“I was nineteen.”
“So was Claire.”
“That’s different.”
“Why?”
“Because it was my family.”
The answer was so nakedly selfish that Mathilde stopped.
Marc seemed to hear it too.
“I mean, I was inside it.”
“Yes.”
“I didn’t see it the way she did.”
“That part I believe.”
He was quiet.
Mathilde looked through the glass at Ines.
Her daughter was speaking with Dr. Benhamou, using both hands now, asking something specific.
“What are you afraid the letters will prove?”
Marc did not answer immediately.
“That Elise asked me for help more than once.”
Mathilde closed her eyes.
“And you didn’t help.”
“I tried.”
“When?”
“Eventually.”
“That word is becoming a problem.”
His voice cracked.
“I know.”
For the first time, he sounded as though he did.
Mathilde said, “Why did you request the correction to Ines’s record?”
Silence.
“Hospital administration told me.”
Another silence.
“I panicked.”
“No.”
“What do you want me to say?”
“The truth.”
“I thought if the record showed I had been clearly warned, then if something happened to her, everyone would know I had ignored it.”
Mathilde felt cold.
“So you tried to change the record before you changed your behavior.”
“Yes.”
The admission came so softly she nearly missed it.
For several seconds neither spoke.
Marc broke first.
“I hated myself the minute I did it.”
“Did you withdraw the request?”
“No.”
“Then apparently not enough.”
He made a sound that might have been a sob.
Mathilde had no room for it.
Not yet.
“Where are you?”
“A hotel.”
“Stay there.”
“I want to see Ines.”
“She doesn’t want to see you.”
“You asked her?”
“She told me.”
Marc was quiet.
Then he said, “I need to apologize.”
“That is something you need.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“I need her to know I’m sorry.”
“That is still something you need.”
He did not answer.
May you like
Mathilde watched a cleaner mop around a trash bin across the hall.
The cleaner lifted the bin with one hand, slid the mop underneath, replaced it, and moved on.
