Mom lowered her voice.
“We should discuss this privately.”
“The time for privacy was three years ago, before you decided Rosie was a problem to solve.”
My father glanced at the doctor.
“When can we see her?”
I stepped between him and the recovery ward.
“You will not enter that room until Rosie says she wants you there.”
“I am her father.”
“And she is an adult.”
Dad’s face hardened.
“You cannot make that decision.”
“No,” I said. “Neither can you.”
Ben spoke quietly.
“Rosie has a medical directive. I am her chosen decision-maker while she is unable to speak.”
My parents stared at him.
“She prepared it with her own lawyer,” he continued. “Not yours.”
My mother looked as though he had struck her.
“You turned her against us.”
“No,” Ben said. “You underestimated her long before I arrived.”
The elevator doors opened behind them.
For several seconds, neither parent moved.
Then Dad took Mom’s arm.
They left without another word.
The corridor felt lighter when the doors closed.
Ben leaned against the wall.
“I am sorry I did not tell you.”
I looked at him.
“You should have.”
“I know.”
“You should never have helped them keep something this serious from me.”
“I know.”
“But you did not marry Rosie because of that contract.”
“No.”
“You loved her.”
“From the time she waited beside the window for my bicycle.”
His voice cracked.
“I just did not understand what kind of love it was until we were older.”
A nurse appeared in the doorway.
“She is awake.”
Ben’s entire body went still.
“Can I see her?”
“She is asking for you.”
He took one step, then turned toward me.
“She asked for Cathy too.”
The nurse smiled.
We walked into the recovery room together.
Rosie looked impossibly small beneath the blankets.
Her face was pale.
Tubes and monitors surrounded her.
Yet the moment she saw us, she smiled.
“There you are,” she whispered.
Ben reached her first.
