Chương 14
“I don’t want him to think I forgive him.”
“He doesn’t get to decide what it means.”
“I want to tell him something.”
“What?”
Ines shook her head.
“I want to tell him myself.”
Mathilde nodded.
“All right.”
Outside the window, afternoon light spread across the hospital roofs.
For the first time since this began, Mathilde did not feel the need to know what would happen before allowing the next thing to happen.
She picked up the consent form, handed the pen to Ines, and waited while her daughter read every line before signing her name.
The signature looked too adult in Ines’s handwriting.
She stared at it for a moment, then handed the pen back to Mathilde.
“Can you tell Dad?”
“Yes.”
“Not yet.”
Mathilde waited.
Ines traced the edge of the consent form with one finger.
“Tell him tonight.”
“All right.”
“And tell him I’ll see him tomorrow morning.”
Mathilde nodded.
“But only for ten minutes.”
“Okay.”
“And you stay.”
“I stay.”
Ines looked relieved.
That evening, Marc answered on the first ring.
“How is she?”
“She’s having surgery tomorrow morning.”
The silence on the other end was absolute.
“What?”
“The obstruction is significant.”
“Is her kidney—”
“It’s functioning.”
Marc exhaled so hard Mathilde heard it.
“Oh, thank God.”
“She wants to see you before surgery.”
Another silence.
Mathilde could picture him sitting wherever he was, both hands gripping the edge of something.
“She does?”
“For ten minutes.”
“I’ll be there.”
“You come when I text you.”
“Mathilde.”
“When I text you.”
He inhaled.
“Fine.”
“You do not bring Claire.”
“I wouldn’t.”
“You do not talk about Elise unless Ines asks.”
“Okay.”
“You do not explain yourself unless she asks.”
“Okay.”
“You do not ask her to forgive you.”
Marc was quiet.
“I wasn’t going to.”
Mathilde closed her eyes.
“Good.”
“Can I tell her I love her?”
“That part is yours.”
Marc’s voice changed.
Smaller.
“Thank you.”
Mathilde almost said he did not get to thank her.
Instead she ended the call.
Ines slept poorly.
At two in the morning she woke from a dream she refused to describe.
At three she wanted water and was angry when the nurse reminded her she could only have a small amount because of anesthesia restrictions.
At four she cried.
Not loudly.
She turned toward the wall and wiped her face with the corner of the blanket.
Mathilde sat beside her without saying anything.
After a while Ines whispered, “I’m scared.”
“I know.”
“What if something goes wrong?”
Mathilde did not say it would not.
She had learned the cost of promising certainty where none existed.
“The team knows what they’re doing.”
“That’s not the same thing.”
“No.”
Ines rolled onto her back.
“You really have changed.”
“I’m trying.”
“That sounds exhausting.”
“It is.”
Ines gave a watery laugh.
Mathilde brushed a strand of hair from her forehead.
“I’m scared too.”
Ines looked at her.
“You are?”
“Yes.”
“You didn’t look scared.”
“I’m very talented.”
That got another laugh.
At six forty-five, Dr. Benhamou came by and reviewed the plan again.
She answered the same questions she had answered the night before without showing impatience.
Ines asked whether she could listen to music until they took her down.
The nurse said yes.
She put on one earbud and left the other out.
At seven twelve, Mathilde texted Marc.
Come now.
He arrived seven minutes later.
He looked as though he had not slept.
His shirt was wrinkled.
He had shaved badly and missed a patch near his jaw.
Mathilde had never seen him enter a room without seeming to know where he belonged.
That morning he stopped just inside the doorway.
Ines looked at him.
Neither spoke.
Mathilde stayed beside the bed.
Marc glanced at the chair.
“Can I sit?”
Ines nodded.
He sat.
For several seconds all three of them listened to the faint music leaking from Ines’s earbud.
Finally Marc said, “Hi.”
Ines gave him a look.
“Hi.”
His hands were clasped so tightly his knuckles had gone pale.
“I heard about the surgery.”
“I figured.”
Marc nodded.
Another silence.
“I’m sorry.”
Ines’s expression changed immediately.
Mathilde saw irritation before pain.
“You’re doing it already.”
Marc blinked.
“What?”
“You came in here to make yourself feel better.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
He looked at Mathilde.
She did not rescue him.
Ines pulled the earbud out.
“I need to say something.”
Marc nodded.
“Okay.”
“You told me pain was attention-seeking.”
Marc lowered his eyes.
“I know.”
“You told me Mom was too stressed for me to bother her.”
“Yes.”
“You told me not to tell her about the hospital.”
“Yes.”
Ines swallowed.
“You knew your sister had been sick and people didn’t believe her.”
Marc’s face tightened.
“Yes.”
“And you still did that to me.”
His eyes filled.
“Yes.”
Ines looked at him for several seconds.
Then she said, “I don’t understand that.”
Marc opened his mouth.
Nothing came.
He looked toward Mathilde again, then stopped himself.
“I don’t either.”
Ines frowned.
“That’s all?”
“No.”
He rubbed both palms against his trousers.
“I can explain why I was scared.”
She waited.
“I can explain what I remembered.”
She kept waiting.
“But none of that explains why I made you carry my fear.”
Marc’s voice broke.
Ines looked away.
He continued.
“I kept thinking if I could prove I was wrong about what happened to Elise, then I hadn’t done the same thing.”
Mathilde felt something tighten behind her ribs.
Marc looked at his daughter.
“But I had.”
Ines pressed her lips together.
“I don’t forgive you.”
Marc nodded.
“I know.”
“No, I mean I might not for a long time.”
“I know.”
“You don’t get to keep asking.”
“I won’t.”
“And if I say something hurts, you don’t get to decide I’m dramatic.”
“No.”
She looked at him hard.
“Ever.”
“No.”
Marc wiped his cheek quickly.
Ines stared at him.
Then, to Mathilde’s surprise, she reached one hand toward him.
Marc froze.
May you like
“Come here.”
He moved to the side of the bed.
