Then she asked
me whether I preferred lavender or white roses.
I hung up.
My father sent a text. Tough break. He’s a fighter.
Chloe sent: OMG so scary. Sending good vibes. Can’t talk. Wedding planning is literally killing me. Lol.
The day of the surgery I checked Ethan in at five in the morning. He whispered will it hurt and I told him only for a little bit, baby. Then
they wheeled him away and I went to the waiting room and I sent a text to the family group chat.
Taking Ethan back now. Surgery is ten hours. Please pray.
My mother replied: Keep us updated, honey.
I spent nine hours in that room. I called them. Voicemail, voicemail, voicemail. I walked the hallways. I drank bad coffee and I stared at my phone and not
one of them came.
My mother lived forty minutes away. My father in the same town. My sister an hour.
Nine hours.
When the surgeon finally appeared and said he had done great, the surgery was a complete success, I collapsed into the chair and sobbed until I was empty.
I texted the group. He’s out. Surgery was a success.
My mother replied: Wonderful news
See, I told you he’d be fine.
Chloe sent a heart emoji.
For three days I lived in that hospital room. I slept in the chair. I ate from the vending machine. I did not leave his side. Nobody brought me coffee. Nobody offered to sit with me for an hour.
On the third day, I was brushing Ethan’s hair and my phone buzzed. I thought, finally. She is going to
