Chapter 3

Her voice was full of concern. Her eyes were fixed on my suitcase.

Ethan frowned.

"Why are you back now? I told you to take your mom to the outpatient clinic. What are you doing here?"

"I came back for her bank card."

I let go of the handle and walked to the coffee table. I took the glass jar out of my bag and set it down beside a bowl of cherries.

"My mom made this for you."

I looked at Ethan.

"She said you're always in surgery and it wears on your throat. She simmered it for three days and carried it the whole way herself."

Ethan glanced at the jar.

Rough glass, handwritten note. It looked out of place next to everything else in the room.

"Homemade things have unknown ingredients. Don't leave it in the house."

"Mrs. Hayes just had her results done. Her immune system is compromised. She can't be around random substances."

He picked up the jar and walked into the kitchen.

I stood still and listened. The sound of a lid being unscrewed.

I walked to the kitchen doorway.

Ethan was pouring the pear syrup down the drain.

"Stop acting like the sky is falling every time something happens with your mother."

"The hospital isn't a private club. Everything has a process. Waiting in line is just how it works."

His back was to me.

I watched the last amber trace disappear down the drain.

"Ethan. My mom's nodule is three centimeters."

He turned off the tap and turned around.

"I'm a doctor. I know more about this than you do. A 1.2-centimeter nodule in the wrong position carries just as much risk. Are you really going to make a scene over this right now?"

Sophie's voice floated in from the living room.

"Ethan was just worried about Aunt Hayes eating something she shouldn't. Lily, don't take it the wrong way. If your mom really can't get an appointment, I'll give her my priority slot tomorrow."

Ethan walked out immediately.

"That won't be necessary. Your mom's consultation is a multi-department session. It can't be delayed."

He turned to look at me.

"Get the bank card and go back to the hospital. Stop creating problems here."

I said nothing.

I went to the bedroom and pulled open the drawer. I took out my mother's bank card and old medical records.

On my way through the kitchen, I dropped the empty glass jar into the trash.

It shattered with a clean, sharp sound.

My phone buzzed.

A message from my mother:

Did you give Ethan the pear syrup?

I stared at the screen and put the phone in my pocket.

I grabbed my suitcase and walked out the door.

As it swung shut behind me, I could hear Ethan's voice inside:

"Mrs. Hayes, eat while it's hot."

At four in the morning, cold air cut straight through the outpatient lobby. I turned off my phone screen.

My mother was slumped in a plastic chair. When she heard what I said, a smile spread across her face.

"Good, good. Next time I'll buy a few more pounds of pears and make him a bigger batch."

I took the hard-boiled egg from her hands. The shell had gone soft from being held so long.

I looked up at the display board. The general respiratory clinic still had over seventy numbers ahead of ours.

My mother's three centimeters was just a number here.

By eight in the morning the lobby was filling up. I helped my mother walk to the imaging department on the first floor to get additional films printed.

We had just turned the corner of the corridor when we walked straight into a group of people coming the other way.

At the front was Ethan, white coat on, Deputy Director badge on his chest.

The Head of Imaging, the Deputy Head of Anesthesiology, and the Head Nurse of Cardiothoracic were with him.

In the middle of the group were Sophie and her mother.