Chapter 3 - “I Tried to Tell You”
Robert followed Dr. Brennan into the consultation room.
I stayed beside Maya.
“Mom?”
“Yes?”
“Dad looks scared.”
“He is.”
“Is he mad at you?”
“I don't care.”
She almost smiled.
“That's new.”
I kissed her forehead.
“Yes, it is.”
Twenty minutes later, Robert returned.
He sat down without speaking.
“What did she say?” I asked.
“They need to remove it.”
“I know.”
“They don't know what it is until pathology.”
“I know.”
He stared at his hands.
“She said there could be complications.”
Maya watched him.
“Dad?”
Robert looked up.
“I’m here.”
“Are you mad?”
His face changed.
“At you?”
She nodded.
“No.”
“Because Mom brought me?”
“No.”
“Because this is going to cost a lot?”
I saw the moment those words hit him.
He looked like someone had slapped him.
“Maya…”
“It's okay.”
“No.”
He moved his chair closer.
“It isn't okay.”
She said nothing.
Robert rubbed his forehead.
“I need to ask you something.”
“What?”
“How much did it hurt?”
Maya's expression became guarded.
“Before today?”
“Yes.”
“A lot.”
“And you told me?”
She stared at him.
“I tried.”
Robert's eyes dropped.
“I thought you were trying to skip soccer practice.”
“I quit complaining at soccer because Coach believed me more than you did.”
He closed his eyes.
I didn't rescue him.
He needed to hear it.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered.
Maya looked away.
A nurse entered.
“We're going to prepare Maya now.”
Everything happened quickly after that.
Forms.
Questions.
Medication.
Another IV bag.
A surgical resident explained risks while Robert stared at every word on the consent form.
Finally, Dr. Brennan appeared.
“Ready?”
Maya shook her head.
“No.”
The surgeon smiled gently.
“That's a perfectly acceptable answer.”
“Can my mom come?”
“To the doors.”
Maya grabbed my hand.
Robert stepped forward.
“Can I say something first?”
Maya looked at him.
He struggled for a moment.
Then said, “I believe you.”
Her eyes filled.
Robert's voice broke.
“I should have said that the first time.”
A nurse began rolling the bed away.
At the doors, Maya wouldn't release my hand.
“Mom.”
“Yes.”
“Promise you'll be here.”
“I'll be exactly here.”
“Even if it takes all night?”
“All night. All morning. As long as it takes.”
She finally let go.
The doors closed.
Robert and I stood there staring at them.
Then we walked into the waiting room.
For almost twenty minutes, neither of us spoke.
Finally, Robert said, “You were right.”
I looked at him.
“This isn't about me being right.”
“I know.”
“No, I don't think you do.”
He nodded slowly.
“I was trying to control everything.”
“Money.”
“Everything.”
“You made her afraid to tell us when she was hurting.”
His eyes became wet.
“I know.”
“She thought medical care was something she had to justify to you.”
“I know.”
I stood.
“Stop saying you know.”
He looked up.
“Then tell me what to say.”
“Nothing. For once, don't explain yourself. Don't defend yourself. Just remember how she looked when she asked whether you were going to be angry about the cost.”
Robert lowered his head.
“I will.”
Hours passed.
Midnight came.
Then one.
Then two.
Every time the doors opened, we both stood.
Every time it was someone else's doctor.
At 2:47 a.m., Dr. Brennan finally appeared.
There was blood on the edge of one shoe.
I stopped breathing.
Robert was already on his feet.
“How is she?”
The surgeon removed her cap.
“The operation is over.”
“And?”
“She did very well.”
My legs almost gave out.
Robert caught my arm.
“You removed it?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“All of it?”
“As much as we safely needed to remove. The mass appears to have originated from one of her ovaries. It had grown large enough to twist surrounding tissue and interfere with normal function.”
“Was it cancer?” I asked.
“We won't know definitively until pathology, but visually, there are encouraging signs.”
“When can we see her?”
“Soon.”
Robert covered his face.
For several seconds, he simply stood there.
Then I heard him crying.
Not quietly.
Not politely.
He cried like a man finally understanding how close he'd come to losing something he thought would always be there.
Dr. Brennan gave us a moment.
Before leaving, she turned back.
“One more thing.”
We looked at her.
“Maya is lucky.”
Robert's face tightened.
Dr. Brennan continued.
“If this had been ignored much longer, we could have been having a very different conversation.”
Robert didn't move.
After she left, he sat down.
He stared at the floor.
Then whispered:
“I told you we'd deal with it later.”
I sat beside him.
“Yes.”
His voice cracked.
“What if later had been too late?”
May you like
I had no answer.
Because both of us already knew.
