Page 2 of Toxic Salvation
“Of course.” She starts to walk away, then pauses. “Have you told her yet? About the pregnancy?”
I glance through the window at Mom, who’s resumed her ceiling-staring vigil. “Not yet.”
“Might want to consider it. Wanting to meet her grandchild could be powerful motivation.”
If only it were that simple. If only I could walk in there and say,“Surprise, Mom! You’re going to be a grandmother!”But the truth is, I can barely wrap my head around this pregnancy myself.
Because it might as well be an immaculate conception. I mean, this baby doesn’t have a father. Not truly. It only has a sperm donor who decided I wasn’t worth fighting for. A man who threw away what we had the moment things got complicated.
What does it have? This baby hasme. A woman who’s spent the last month living in hospital waiting rooms, subsisting on vending machine coffee and an endless supply of denial.
“Get some rest,” Dr. Nass says. “You look like hell.”
Probably because I feel like hell. But I paste on a smile and head back into Mom’s room.
“Did you hear that?” I settle into the chair beside her bed, trying to inject enthusiasm into my voice. “The surgery was a success. You have a real shot at beating this thing.”
She turns her face away from me and says nothing.
“Mom?” I scoot forward. “I know you didn’t want the surgery, but?—”
“I wanted to die with dignity.” She closes her eyes. “I didn’t want to spend my last weeks being carved up like a science experiment.”
“You’re not a science experiment. You’re my mother, and I wasn’t going to sit back and watch you give up.”
“I feel worse than before.”
“That’s normal. Major surgery takes time to recover from. Trust me; in a few days?—”
“No.” She finally looks at me, and the pain in her eyes nearly breaks me. “I still have cancer, Vesper. I’m still dying. Now, I just get to suffer more before I go.”
I grab her hand, squeezing tight. “I’ll talk to Dr. Nass about increasing your pain medication. You just need to fight a little longer?—”
“I love you, sweetheart. I know these last few months have been hard on you. But saving me won’t bring your father back.”
My hands go slack around hers. “I don’t understand what you’re trying to say.”
“You’ve been carrying so much guilt about not being able to save him. But he was ready to go, honey. Just like I was ready.”
I pull away from her, tears burning my eyes. “That’s not what this is about. I’m not trying to make up for Dad by saving you.”
“I didn’t mean to imply…” She closes her eyes, looking exhausted. “I’m sorry. It’s just—I miss him so much. I thought I’d be with him soon.”
The tremor in her voice makes my chest tighten. “He was the love of your life.”
“Heisthe love of my life. Present tense.”
I hesitate, then ask a question that’s been on my mind for the last month. “Do you think you really knew him? I mean, completely?”
Mom studies my face. “I don’t think any of us can know another person completely. But if anyone knew your father, it was me.He wasn’t perfect, Vesper. But he was my husband. My heart. When you love someone that deeply, you don’t just stop.”
I know exactly what she means. I felt that way about someone once. Someone who turned out to be everything I should have avoided.
But then again, Dad had his secrets, too. Dark ones. And Mom stood by him anyway.
More questions—harder questions—are burning in my throat. Did she know about the organ trafficking? Did she choose to look the other way, or did she try to stop him? How do you love someone when you discover they’re capable of terrible things?
I have so many questions. I just don’t have the courage to ask them.
