Chapter 7: Surgery Night

Cal wrote his answer across the top of Preston's job offer in grease pencil.

*No.*

He gave it to the courier from Ridgway Development who stood waiting at the garage door, and he went to the hospital.

The cardiac team had moved his mother's operation up.

Kira told him on Wednesday, standing in the hallway with her cane hooked over her arm and a coffee going cold in her hand.

"The video worked on the right people," she said. "A surgeon saw it and called the board. She's first on Thursday."

"I'll pay the county back," Cal said. "Every dollar."

"It isn't a loan."

"I pay back everyone. I always have."

Kira looked at him a moment too long.

"You'd better not," she said, and went to file something.

Thursday at six in the morning they wheeled Joan down the hall.

She was awake enough to point a finger at him.

"Don't you dare cry in front of the staff."

"I won't, Mom."

"You will. Do it quietly."

The doors swung shut behind the bed.

The waiting room was empty at that hour, with six chairs bolted to the floor and a muted television.

Cal sat down in the one nearest the doors.

At nine, a woman with a cane came in with two cups.

"They didn't have tea, so you're getting bad coffee," Kira said, and sat down one chair away.

She did not say anything else, and she did not leave.

At noon, a nurse said the valve was in.

At two, a different nurse came out too quickly and went back in.

At three the surgeon walked out through the double doors, pulled off her cap and sat down in front of Cal.

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