The Price of Silence
Chapter 12 - The Price of Silence
Ethan looked as confused as I felt.
“What apartment?” I asked.
“The one on Addison,” Margaret said.
I had lived there for eleven months after leaving my sister’s house.
Ethan stared at his mother.
“You told me Claire was moving to Arizona.”
“She had discussed it.”
“I never discussed Arizona,” I said.
Margaret ignored me.
“You drove to the apartment after midnight. You were not sober.”
A memory moved across Ethan’s face.
“I saw a man carrying boxes.”
“My brother helped me move furniture.”
“You were laughing with him.”
“He’s my brother.”
“I didn’t know.”
“You didn’t knock?”
Ethan lowered his eyes.
“No.”
The truth was almost insulting in its simplicity.
For six years, I had believed he never came.
For six years, he had told himself one glimpse through a windshield had given him the right to disappear.
“You saw me laugh,” I said, “and decided Emma did not need a father?”
“I was drunk, ashamed and afraid you would close the door.”
“So you closed it first.”
“Yes.”
Margaret stood.
“You see? He was not stable enough for continued contact.”
“That was not your decision,” I said.
“Someone had to protect him.”
“Who protected Emma?”
Margaret’s face changed.
For the first time, she looked toward the empty space on the wall where a family photograph should have been.
No one answered.
Back at the hospital, Ethan told Emma the entire story.
He did not remove the ugly parts.
He told her he had gone to the apartment.
He told her he had been drinking.
He told her he saw me through the window and drove away without knocking.
Emma listened.
When he finished, she said, “That’s worse.”
“I know.”
“You were close enough to see Mom laugh.”
“Yes.”
“But not close enough to see me?”
“I didn’t look for you.”
“Why?”
“Because I was thinking about myself.”
Emma’s eyes filled.
“That’s the first honest answer you’ve given me.”
Ethan nodded.
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t say it like it’s finished.”
“What do you mean?”
“You keep saying sorry after each thing. But there are too many things. You don’t get to put a period after every one.”
He sat back.
“What should I say?”
“Nothing.”
So he said nothing.
He stayed in the chair while Emma cried.
Later that night, she developed another fever.
Dr. Shah ordered cultures and moved her to a higher level of isolation. The donor decision could not be delayed much longer.
Emma still refused to consent to Ethan’s donation.
I did not pressure her.
Neither did he.
At three in the morning, Ethan left the room to take a call.
When he returned, his face was pale.
“The clinic board voted.”
I already knew.
“They terminated me?”
“They said the funding risk was too high.”
My job had been the one part of my life that belonged entirely to me.
Not to the Mercers.
Not to the divorce.
Not to the woman in the pink dress.
Vanessa had reached into that too.
Ethan moved closer.
“I can cover your salary.”
“No.”
“I know how that sounds.”
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
“Then don’t make me explain why I will not take money from the man whose fiancée threw a dollar at my feet.”
His jaw tightened.
“She is not my fiancée anymore.”
I looked at him.
“When?”
“An hour ago.”
“What did she say?”
“That I would come crawling back when Emma became too expensive.”
Before I could answer, a nurse hurried into the room.
Emma had started bleeding from her nose.
Then her gums.
Dr. Shah arrived within minutes.
After examining her, she took me and Ethan into the corridor.
“We are running out of safe time,” she said. “You need to make a decision about the transplant.”
Emma heard her through the open door.
She looked at Ethan.
Then she whispered, “I’ll do it.”
Ethan took one step forward.
May you like
Emma raised her hand.
“I’m doing it because I want to live,” she said. “Not because you earned forgiveness.”
