Chương 13
“Elise wrote to her about it.”
“And what did Claire do?”
“She told Elise that if she was scared, she should tell a teacher.”
“Did she?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“She was afraid her family would break apart.”
Ines gave a small, bitter laugh.
Mathilde looked at her.
Her daughter stared toward the window.
That fear had survived decades and crossed generations without anyone needing to teach it directly.
“What happened to the letter?” Mathilde asked.
“Which one?”
“The one saying Elise’s mother asked Marc to stop taking her to appointments.”
“Claire has the original.”
“Did you see it?”
“Yes.”
“Is it real?”
“As far as I know.”
“Why would her mother ask Marc to stop?”
Alain sighed.
“That is the part Claire and Marc disagree about.”
“What does Claire think?”
“She thinks Elise’s mother was trying to keep Marc out of the conflict because he was nineteen and already frightened.”
“And Marc?”
“He thinks his mother knew more about the medication than she admitted and was trying to keep him from learning it.”
Mathilde rubbed her forehead.
“Do you believe either of them?”
“I believe both of them are still trying to turn incomplete evidence into a version that hurts least.”
That sentence stayed in the room after Alain stopped speaking.
Ines looked at Mathilde.
“Can we not do that?”
Mathilde understood immediately.
“Yes.”
“How?”
“We let the doctors deal with medical facts.”
“And the rest?”
Mathilde looked at the phone.
“We stop treating every old letter like it can tell us what someone was thinking thirty years ago.”
Alain said quietly, “That would be wise.”
Mathilde almost laughed.
“None of us have been especially wise.”
“No.”
At least he did not argue.
She asked him to send copies of the documents he had already shared with Marc, but only the medical records and dates relevant to family history.
Alain agreed.
When the call ended, Ines sank back against the pillows.
“My family is exhausting.”
Mathilde sat beside her.
“You are allowed to resign.”
“Can I resign from Dad’s side and keep your side?”
“My side has Aunt Sophie.”
Ines considered.
“Good point.”
Mathilde laughed despite herself.
It lasted only a few seconds, but it felt clean.
Then Ines’s expression changed.
“Mom.”
“Yes?”
“Claire lied to us.”
“Yes.”
“Are you going to call her?”
“Yes.”
“Are you mad?”
“Very.”
“Are you going to yell?”
Mathilde thought about it.
“I’d like to.”
“That wasn’t the question.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because I want information more than I want satisfaction.”
Ines gave her a look.
“That sounded annoyingly mature.”
“I’m sleep-deprived.”
“Maybe it improves you.”
Mathilde nudged her foot beneath the blanket.
Ines smiled.
Then the door opened and Dr. Benhamou entered carrying the results from the functional study.
Her expression was serious but not grim.
Mathilde stood.
Ines sat up again.
Dr. Benhamou pulled the chair close.
“The left kidney is still functioning.”
Mathilde released a breath she had not realized she was holding.
Ines whispered, “How well?”
“Less efficiently than the right, but not at a level that suggests we have lost it.”
Mathilde closed her eyes for one second.
Relief came so hard it almost hurt.
“Can it recover?”
“Some function may improve after the obstruction is corrected.”
“Some?”
“We will not know how much until later.”
Ines nodded.
“Okay.”
Dr. Benhamou continued.
“I recommend surgery.”
“When?”
“Tomorrow morning, if you agree.”
Mathilde looked at Ines.
The fear arrived visibly now.
Her daughter swallowed.
“What happens if we wait?”
“We increase the risk of further damage and another painful obstruction.”
Ines stared at her hands.
“Then I don’t want to wait.”
Mathilde reached for her.
This time Ines took her hand.
Dr. Benhamou explained the procedure, the anesthesia, the expected recovery, and the possibility that they might need temporary drainage depending on what they found.
Mathilde listened and asked questions.
Ines asked more.
When the doctor finished, she left them with consent paperwork and time.
Ines stared at the forms.
“Dad has to sign too?”
Mathilde checked.
“No.”
“Good.”
Then she looked ashamed.
Mathilde squeezed her hand.
“You don’t have to feel bad for feeling that.”
“I kind of do.”
“Why?”
“Because he’s still my dad.”
“Yes.”
“And I still love him.”
“Yes.”
“And I also don’t want him here.”
“All three can be true.”
Ines nodded slowly.
Mathilde’s phone vibrated.
Claire.
She let it ring once.
Twice.
Then answered.
“Mathilde.”
Claire sounded breathless.
“I spoke to Alain.”
“So did I.”
Silence.
“I can explain.”
Mathilde looked at Ines.
Her daughter watched her carefully.
“No.”
Claire stopped.
“You can tell me why you lied.”
A longer silence.
Then Claire said, “Because Marc asked me to.”
Mathilde closed her eyes.
There it was again.
Not a complicated mystery.
Not a hidden medical truth.
A choice.
“Why did you agree?”
“Because he said if you knew I had been investigating Elise before Ines got sick, you would think I had put the idea in his head.”
“Did you?”
“No.”
“Did your investigation affect how he reacted to Ines’s symptoms?”
Claire was quiet.
“Yes.”
Mathilde’s anger sharpened.
“So he was right about that part.”
“Yes.”
“And you helped him hide it.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Claire’s voice broke.
“Because I thought if Ines’s condition turned out to be unrelated, then none of this would matter.”
Mathilde looked at her daughter.
Ines had heard enough.
Her face said it.
Mathilde stepped into the hall.
“It mattered before anyone knew the diagnosis.”
“I know that now.”
“You knew enough then.”
Claire started crying quietly.
Mathilde felt no satisfaction.
Only exhaustion.
“Send the medically relevant letters to Dr. Laurent.”
“And then stop deciding what my family needs to know.”
Claire inhaled shakily.
“Okay.”
Mathilde ended the call.
When she returned to the room, Ines was staring at the surgery consent form.
“Mom?”
“Yes?”
“If Dad comes tomorrow, I think I want to see him.”
Mathilde stopped.
Ines looked frightened by her own decision.
“Before surgery.”
“Are you sure?”
“No.”
Mathilde sat beside her.
May you like
“That is allowed too.”
Ines looked at the form again.
