Chapter 4

Mrs. Hayes was in a wheelchair. Sophie was pushing her. Ethan was giving instructions to the Head of Imaging.

"Dr. Reynolds, the edges on that 1.2-centimeter nodule are slightly blurred. I'd like you to personally oversee the contrast CT."

My mother went still.

She rubbed her eyes and took a step forward.

"Ethan?"

Her voice wasn't loud, but it landed awkwardly at the entrance to the VIP corridor.

Ethan stopped walking. He turned his head.

My mother was wearing her faded cotton-linen shirt. There were still yellow mud stains on the hem of her pants. She held her canvas tote of CT films tightly in both hands.

"It really is you, Ethan."

She gave a slightly nervous smile and moved toward him.

"Have you eaten breakfast? I still have a warm egg right here—"

The department heads all stopped.

The hospital administrator, Dr. Collins, looked at my mother, then at Ethan.

"Dr. Smith, is this a family member of yours?"

One beat of silence.

"No."

He turned to Dr. Collins.

"A general patient's family member who has mistaken me for someone else. Could you ask security to maintain order? We can't have the consultation disrupted."

My mother's outstretched hand froze in the air.

The egg rolled out of her grip.

She lost her hold on the canvas tote. It hit the floor with a crash. Dozens of CT films scattered across the tiles.

Security stepped forward immediately.

"Ma'am, this is the specialist corridor. Please step back behind the yellow line."

My mother snapped back to herself and crouched down in a hurry, nodding repeatedly.

"I'm so sorry, so sorry, I'm getting old, I must have mistaken him for someone else. He just looks so much like — I'm so sorry."

She kept apologizing to the security guard as she picked up the films.

Sophie was standing beside Ethan. She tugged lightly at his sleeve.

Ethan didn't look at the floor again. He walked into the consultation room and took everyone with him.

I stood at the corner of the corridor and watched my mother bent over, picking up her films one by one.

Patients waiting in line were staring at her.

She gathered the films back into the canvas tote and wiped her face with her sleeve.

I didn't rush out.

Because that would have only made it worse for her.

She was working so hard to cover for Ethan. The last thing she wanted was for anyone to know that her own son-in-law had humiliated her in public.

I walked over and crouched down to pick up the last film.

My mother saw me and quickly turned away to wipe her face.

"Lily, how did you get here? Did our number come up?"

I looked at her red-rimmed eyes and the rough, swollen knuckles of her hands.

"Mom. Let's go."

I took her hand.

"Go where? We're not waiting anymore?"

"We're done waiting."

I tucked the films back into the canvas tote, took her hand, and turned toward the hospital exit.

"We're not treating this here."

I didn't give her time to hesitate. I half-led, half-pulled her through the revolving doors of the provincial hospital.

The cold air hit her and she shuddered. Her feet stopped on the front steps.

"Lily, don't be childish."

She grabbed my hand, her voice uneasy.

"Ethan was working. All those department heads were standing right there. If I went over looking like this, I'd just embarrass him in front of everyone."

She was still making excuses for him.

"He wasn't wrong. I am just a regular patient's family member. Let's go back and wait in line. We can't miss the appointment."

I looked at her face — apologetic, small, desperate to smooth everything over.

It hurt to look at.

"Mom, he didn't owe you dignity. He just refused to give it to you."

I walked her across the street to a noodle shop and set a bowl of hot soup in front of her.

"Eat. When you're done I'm taking you somewhere else."

My mother didn't pick up her fork.

She looked around to make sure no one was watching, then slipped her hand inside her jacket.

She worked at something for a long moment, unclasped a safety pin, and pulled out a small cloth bundle wrapped in three layers of plastic.