I called Robert from the hospital hallway.
He answered on the fourth ring.
“What’s going on?”
I could barely control my voice.
“Maya has a mass.”
There was silence.
Then he said:
“What?”
“The doctors found something in her abdomen.”
His voice changed.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“What did they say?”
“They don’t know yet. She needs a biopsy.”
Another silence.
Then Robert said something that made my blood run cold.
“I knew something like this would happen.”
I stopped walking.
“What did you just say?”
“I mean… I knew she was sick.”
“No.”
My voice became louder.
“You said she was exaggerating.”
“I didn’t mean—”
“You knew?”
“I thought it was stress.”
“You knew she was losing weight.”
“I thought teenagers lose weight sometimes.”
“You knew she was dizzy.”
“I didn’t think it was serious.”
I closed my eyes.
Every excuse sounded worse than the one before it.
Then I remembered the school nurse’s note.
“You took the note from her backpack.”
Robert said nothing.
“You knew the nurse wanted her checked.”
Still nothing.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
His voice became defensive.
“Because I didn’t want you panicking over nothing.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.
“This isn’t nothing.”
“I know that now.”
“No, Robert.”
I looked through the hospital window toward Maya’s room.
“You should have known then.”
He became quiet.
Then he said:
“I’ll come to the hospital.”
“You should.”
I ended the call.
When I returned to Maya’s room, she was awake.
She looked at my face.
“Dad knows?”
I nodded.
She looked frightened.
“Mom…”
“I’m here.”
She hesitated.
Then she whispered:
“There is something else you need to know about Dad.”
I sat beside her.
“What?”
Maya looked toward the door.
“I saw him talking to someone.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know.”
“When?”
“Three weeks ago.”
Her hands began trembling.
“They were arguing.”
I felt a chill move through me.
“Did you hear what they were saying?”
Maya nodded slowly.
Then she told me the one sentence she remembered.
And that sentence changed everything.
