I couldn’t breathe.
“I heard you,” she said. “And I knew you were broken too. That made it harder to hate you.”
I covered my mouth with one hand, trying to steady myself.
“I never stopped loving you,” she said.
The words came so softly I almost thought I imagined them.
Then she closed her eyes.
“But I don’t know if love is enough to trust someone again.”
I nodded.
“That’s fair.”
“I want it to be enough.”
“So do I.”
Rain tapped steadily against the glass.
For a while, neither of us spoke.
Then Sophie reached out from beneath the blanket.
Her hand rested palm-up between us.
Slowly, carefully, I took it.
Her fingers were cold.
I held them like something precious and breakable.
The next morning, they wheeled her away just after sunrise.
Linda stood on one side of the gurney, crying despite trying not to. I stood on the other, holding Sophie’s overnight bag.
Sophie looked paler than usual under the surgical cap.
At the double doors, the nurse paused.
Only one of us could go farther.
Sophie looked at her mother.
Then at me.
For one terrible second, I thought she was going to choose me, and guilt surged through me on Linda’s behalf.
