Chương 11
The nurse saw it first.
Daniel was asleep in a chair, his chin against his chest, when Ethan whispered, “Dad.”
Daniel woke instantly.
“Pain?”
“My toe.”
“What about it?”
“It moved.”
Daniel pulled back the blanket.
“Do it again.”
“I’m trying.”
Nothing happened.
Daniel pressed the call button.
“Don’t tell them until I do it again.”
“I already pressed it.”
“You always ruin stuff.”
“I’m sorry.”
The nurse came in. Ethan stared at his foot until sweat appeared along his hairline.
The toe moved less than half an inch.
The nurse smiled.
Daniel made a sound he had not made at Claire’s funeral, in the park, or during surgery. It came from somewhere beneath language.
Ethan watched him.
“Are you crying?”
“No.”
“You are.”
“I have dry eyes.”
“That’s the opposite.”
Daniel laughed into his hand.
Later, after the neurologist confirmed voluntary movement, Ethan asked for Lily.
This time, Daniel did not call directly.
He sent a message through Helen.
Ethan moved his toe. He would like to tell Lily himself if she wants to speak with him.
Lily read the message twice.
“He asked?” she said.
Helen nodded.
“Not his dad?”
“Ethan asked his dad. His dad asked me. I asked you.”
“That’s too many people.”
“That’s privacy.”
Lily agreed to a video call with the camera off.
Ethan’s face appeared on Ruth’s laptop, pale and thin against hospital pillows.
“You look worse,” Lily said.
“You said that last time.”
“It’s still true.”
“I moved my toe.”
“Which one?”
“Right big.”
“Can you move the others?”
“No.”
“Then work on it.”
Ethan smiled. “I missed you too.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You called.”
“Because your dad doesn’t know what questions to ask.”
Daniel appeared at the edge of the screen. “I can hear you.”
“You’re supposed to.”
Ethan said, “Dad told everyone the truth.”
“Some of it.”
“He said the foundation messed up.”
“They did.”
“He said he messed up.”
“He did.”
Daniel sat beside the bed. “This is a restorative conversation.”
Lily frowned. “What?”
“My therapist suggested—”
“You got a therapist?”
“I’ve had one for twenty-six hours.”
“That explains why you talk worse.”
Ethan laughed. Daniel did too, though more carefully.
Lily studied him on the screen.
“You offered me a trust.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“I know.”
“And private school.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“I know.”
“And an apartment.”
Daniel rubbed his forehead. “That was for temporary security.”
“Still no.”
“Understood.”
She waited.
He did not add an argument.
“What are you doing instead?” she asked.
“Trying to answer only the question asked.”
“No. About Greenridge.”
Daniel’s expression changed.
“We opened the foundation records to an independent investigation. We’re funding legal representation through an organization we don’t control. The state is reviewing two other programs connected to the same nonprofit.”
“What happens to the kids there?”
“They’re assessing placements.”
“That means moving them.”
“Some may need to move.”
“Where?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then you’re closing stuff without knowing where kids go.”
Daniel looked down.
Ethan watched both of them.
Lily said, “That’s what happened to us when the shelter closed.”
“I know.”
“No, you read it.”
Daniel lifted his eyes.
“You’re right.”
“Stop saying I’m right like it helps.”
“What should I say?”
“I don’t know.”
For once, Daniel seemed relieved by an honest answer.
Ethan said, “Lily, can you come see me?”
Her body tightened.
The hospital meant security, caseworkers, cameras, and the bathroom where her mother had not died but could have. All hospitals connected in her mind through smell.
“I don’t like hospitals.”
“You liked the nurse with red glasses.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“She told me.”
“Yvette talks too much.”
“She says you owe her four crackers.”
“I ate those.”
“She says emotional interest.”
Lily looked at Ruth.
Ruth was washing dishes, pretending not to listen.
“Maybe,” Lily said.
Ethan nodded as though she had promised.
The visit occurred two days later under rules Lily negotiated through Helen.
No press.
No photographs.
No gifts.
Daniel would leave the room for the first ten minutes.
Marcus could be in the hallway but not inside.
Ruth would stay.
Lily wore the repaired coat.
The hospital lobby was crowded with people carrying flowers, balloons, coffee, and fear. Lily kept her hands in her pockets. Ruth walked beside her, not ahead.
Marcus met them at a service elevator.
“You got taller,” he said.
“No.”
“Then I got shorter.”
“Probably.”
He pressed the elevator button.
Lily studied his face. “Did you find the man from across the street?”
“We think it was a freelance photographer.”
“You think?”
“He sold two pictures taken from a distance. No known connection to Ray.”
“So I was wrong.”
“You noticed someone watching you. You were right about that.”
“But it wasn’t him.”
“No.”
She disliked the distinction because it left no one to blame for the fear.
Ethan’s room was bright with afternoon sun. Machines had been removed since the video call. A wheelchair stood near the wall.
Daniel left when Lily entered.
He did not remind anyone that it was his son’s room.
Ethan looked at the coat.
“That’s the one.”
“You had it for three minutes.”
“It was warm.”
“It smells like bus.”
“It smelled like outside.”
Lily sat in the chair beside the bed.
Ruth took the window seat and began reading a magazine.
Ethan raised the blanket to show his feet.
“Watch.”
His right big toe moved. Then the second toe trembled.
Lily leaned closer despite herself.
“That one almost moved.”
“It did move.”
“Almost.”
“Dad said it moved.”
“Your dad lies when he’s excited.”
From the hallway, Daniel said, “I can still hear you.”
“You’re outside,” Lily called. “Stay there.”
Ethan grinned.
For several minutes, they talked about physical therapy. Ethan complained that the therapist made him squeeze a ball between his knees. Lily said complaining wasted energy. He told her she sounded like an old person. She told him he looked like one.
Then he became quiet.
“Why were you in the park?” he asked.
May you like
She looked at Ruth.
Ruth turned a page.
