Chương 8
Claire watched his expression.
“Your mother?”
“Yes.”
“What does she want?”
“I don’t know.”
“Open them.”
He looked at her.
“Why?”
“Because I want to know if she’s asking whether I’m alive or whether you’re still taking her shopping.”
His jaw tightened.
He opened the messages.
The first was from Victoria.
You humiliated me in front of strangers.
The second came thirty seconds later.
Your father is being impossible.
The third read:
Call me before Claire turns this into something it isn’t.
Ethan stared at the screen.
Claire watched his face change.
Not dramatically.
Just enough.
His eyebrows drew together.
His lips parted.
Then he looked up at her.
“What?”
Claire asked.
He turned the phone so she could read.
She did.
The words did not surprise her.
That hurt more than if they had.
“She thinks I’m doing this to her.”
Ethan looked at the messages again.
“She thinks everything is happening to her.”
Claire almost said that he had spent six years helping Victoria believe exactly that.
She did not have enough energy for the argument.
She closed her eyes instead.
Ethan typed something.
“What are you saying?”
He hesitated.
Claire opened her eyes.
“Ethan.”
“I’m telling her not to come.”
“That’s not the same as what I asked.”
He looked at the screen.
Then he held the phone where she could see while he typed.
Claire is going into surgery.
Do not come to the hospital.
Do not contact her.
Do not contact the staff.
He stopped.
Claire read it.
“Send it.”
He did.
The message showed delivered.
For a few seconds there was no response.
Then three dots appeared.
Ethan stared.
The dots vanished.
Reappeared.
Vanished again.
Finally a message arrived.
So this is what marriage has done to you.
Ethan read it twice.
Something hardened in his face.
He typed nothing.
He powered the phone off.
Claire watched him place it on the counter.
“That might be the first time you’ve ever turned her off.”
He looked at her.
“You mean the phone?”
“No.”
The room went quiet.
Ethan sat down.
Claire could see him struggling to choose an answer.
He settled on the truth.
“Probably.”
She turned her face away.
The twins moved.
One roll beneath her ribs.
One faint nudge lower down.
She placed both hands on her belly.
“Can you feel them?”
Ethan asked.
“Yes.”
His eyes dropped to her hands.
For months, whenever one of the babies moved, Ethan would rush over and put his palm against her stomach.
Sometimes they stopped moving the instant he touched her.
He used to complain that they already had her sense of humor.
Now he remained in the chair.
Claire noticed that too.
He was finally learning that wanting closeness did not entitle him to it.
Dana returned with another blood-pressure reading.
“Better.”
“How much?”
“One-fifty over ninety.”
Claire frowned.
“That’s better?”
“Compared with where you were, yes.”
Dr. Patel came back.
“Operating room is almost ready.”
Claire’s mouth went dry.
“Almost?”
“They’re finishing turnover.”
Claire nodded.
“Okay.”
“Before we go, I need to ask one more time.”
Dr. Patel looked toward Ethan, then back to Claire.
“Do you want him in the operating room?”
Ethan did not move.
The question seemed to empty the air from the room.
Claire looked at him.
His face was pale.
His eyes were red around the edges.
He did not ask.
He did not plead.
He waited.
Claire thought of the kitchen floor.
His sleeve leaving her hand.
The car keys.
His mother’s palm against his chest.
Don’t move until I’m back.
Then she thought of him beside her at three in the morning assembling the second crib because he had stripped the first screw and refused to sleep until he fixed it.
She thought of his hand at the small of her back during every prenatal appointment.
She thought of all the ways a person could love someone and still fail them at the exact moment love became inconvenient.
“I don’t know.”
Dr. Patel nodded.
“That’s allowed.”
Claire looked at Ethan again.
He swallowed.
“If you don’t want me there, I’ll wait outside.”
She studied his face.
“Would you?”
“Yes.”
“Without calling your mother?”
His eyes closed for a second.
“Yes.”
“Without making this about how bad you feel?”
He opened them.
“Yes.”
“Without asking me to forgive you before I’ve even had the babies?”
His voice was barely audible.
“Yes.”
Claire looked down at her hands.
The IV tape pulled at the fine hairs on her wrist.
“I want you there.”
Ethan inhaled.
“But you don’t touch me unless I ask.”
He nodded.
“And if I tell you to leave, you leave.”
“Yes.”
“And if your mother comes here, you handle it without involving me.”
“Yes.”
Claire met his eyes.
“This is not forgiveness.”
“I know.”
The answer came without hesitation.
That mattered.
Not enough.
But it mattered.
Dr. Patel stood.
“All right.”
A surgical nurse entered with blue disposable coveralls for Ethan.
He took them.
His hands shook while he tried to unfold them.
The nurse showed him where to change.
Ethan disappeared behind the bathroom door.
Claire stared at the closed door.
Dana leaned over the bedrail.
“You okay?”
“No.”
“Fair answer.”
Claire laughed weakly.
Dana began disconnecting one of the monitors.
“They’ll replace these in the OR.”
Claire watched the fetal heart traces disappear from the screen.
The silence afterward frightened her.
“I liked hearing them.”
“They’re still there.”
“I know.”
Dana paused.
Then she turned the monitor volume back on for another few seconds before disconnecting the second lead.
Two fast heartbeats filled the room one last time.
Claire closed her eyes.
“Thank you.”
Dana switched the monitor off.
The bathroom door opened.
Ethan emerged in blue surgical clothing, cap crooked over his dark hair.
Under any other circumstances he would have looked ridiculous.
Claire almost told him.
Instead she reached for his wrist.
He froze.
She closed her fingers around him.
May you like
“Don’t make me regret letting you in.”
His throat moved.
