“We’re not doing this here.”
I walked away.
I thought silence was kindness.
By that evening, it had turned into something else.
Mark’s aunt stopped me near the door.
“Was he taking anything that affected his judgment?”
I walked away.
“What?”
“Violet said maybe he wasn’t thinking clearly.”
“Mark knew exactly what he wanted.”
“I’m only asking.”
“No. You’re asking whether I pushed my dying husband into something he didn’t want.”
She looked away.
“I’m only asking.”
***
That night, I went straight to Cecelia’s nursery.
I opened my laptop.
Then I plugged in the flash drive.
Mark appeared on the screen.
He looked thinner than I remembered.
“If you’re watching this because you miss me, turn it off.”
I went straight to Cecelia’s nursery.
I covered my mouth.
“You don’t get to boss me around.”
He shifted in his chair.
“I’m serious, Sal.”
“Mom asked me not to donate.”
“I’m serious, Sal.”
I leaned closer.
“She asked more than once. Then she asked whether the decision was really mine or yours.”
My stomach dropped.
“I told her it was mine.”
He rubbed both hands over his face.
“I told her it was mine.”
“She can’t stand the idea that strangers might get something from me after I’m gone.”
He paused.
“I understand why. But grief doesn’t get to turn you into the villain.”
My breath caught.
“Don’t protect me by letting her hurt you. And don’t let Cecelia grow up thinking her father was too weak to make his own choices.”
“Grief doesn’t get to turn you into the villain.”
I paused the video.
“You knew.”
I stood.
“You knew she might do this, and you didn’t tell me.”
I pressed both hands against my stomach.
“You knew.”
“I was your wife, Mark. You didn’t have to protect me from everything.”
That was the first time I’d been angry with him since he died.
It felt awful.
It also felt honest.
***
Two days later, Violet arrived carrying a small embroidered blanket.
“I’ve been thinking Cecelia should carry Mark’s name somehow.”
It felt awful.
I stared at her.
“We already chose her name.”
“She should have something from her father.”
“She doesn’t need his name added to hers to be his daughter.”
Violet’s eyes flicked toward my stomach.
“Mark told me he’d changed his mind.”
“We already chose her name.”
“No, he didn’t.”
“You weren’t part of every conversation we had.”
“Neither were you.”
