Chapter 15: Every Appointment

On Monday morning I went to my follow-up scan with Mom on one side and the cane on the other.

Elliot's car was in the parking lot.

He stood beside it with a paper cup in each hand.

He did not come toward me.

"I'm not in the building," he said from thirty feet away. "That was the rule."

"You're in the lot."

"The lot isn't the hospital."

"Elliot."

"I brought you tea. I'll leave it on the hood."

"I don't want it."

"Then I'll drink it and wait."

Mom stared at him until he looked at his shoes.

Dale had told me Elliot had parked in that lot every morning since Sunday, in case I came.

I walked past him and through the glass doors.

The scan took forty minutes.

When it was over, the radiologist came out and said the same thing the surgeon had.

Clear.

I held that word in my mouth all the way down the hall.

At the exit Elliot was still there, leaning against his car with two cold cups on the roof.

He did not ask.

He only looked at my face.

I did not smile, and I did not stop him from seeing that I wanted to.

"Clear," I said, because it was the most I could give him.

He closed his eyes for a second.

His lips moved.

Then he opened them and said, "Come with me at three. Please."

"Where?"

"My father's lawyer. I'd like you to be there."

"Why would I want to be there?"

"Because my mother is going to be there," he said. "And I want her to say it to your face."

I almost said no.

Then I thought of a woman on her knees on a linoleum floor, eight years ago, with a red face and a plan.

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