if he has harmed her?”
Her eyes filled with tears, but she looked away before they could fall.
“You don’t understand.”
“Then help me understand.”
The hallway grew silent between us.
A nurse pushed a supply cart past. Somewhere nearby, a machine beeped steadily.
Finally, Diane spoke.
“For weeks, I’ve watched Aaron walk into Lily’s room and bring her back to life.”
I said nothing.
“He arrives with one of those ridiculous movies, or a bag of snacks, or some story from school. Suddenly, she sits up. She laughs. Sometimes she even eats.”
Her mouth trembled.
“I bring her the blanket she has loved since she was six, and she turns toward the wall.”
“Diane…”
“I remind her to drink water, and she gets irritated. Aaron asks, and she takes the cup.”
“That isn’t his fault.”
“I know.”
The words came out as a whisper.
“I know it isn’t his
