“The front desk says an older woman with silver hair is asking about the baby,” she said. “She says she’s the grandmother.”
Every muscle in my body tightened.
My mother had found a way around the blocked phone.
“She is not on the authorized visitor list,” I said. “Do not let her in.”
Gloria looked at my face and did not ask for the family history.
“I’ll update the desk and the visitor log.”
“Please make sure everyone knows.”
“I will.”
The door closed behind her.
I stared at it.
I expected my mother’s voice to rise in the hallway.
I expected her to tell strangers that I was cruel, dramatic, selfish, ungrateful, or confused from medication.
I expected her to turn my boundary into another injury I had supposedly caused her.
But the hallway stayed quiet.
Ten minutes passed.
Then twenty.
Kevin checked the corridor and returned.
