“Then maybe she needs time.”
“She’s losing her son, Mark.”
“She needs something to be angry at.”
His eyes met mine.
“And I don’t want that something to be you.”
I squeezed his hand.
“You’re asking me to stay out of it.”
“She needs something to be angry at.”
“I’m asking you not to make her grief your job.”
***
A few weeks later, Mark began asking to speak to Dr. Rivers alone.
The first time, I teased him about it.
The second time, I stayed by the door.
“What are you arranging?”
I teased him about it.
Mark leaned back against the pillows.
“Something I need to handle.”
“Without me?”
“Yes. But it’s for you.”
I stared at him.
“That’s somehow worse.”
“Something I need to handle.”
A faint smile touched his mouth.
“Please trust me.”
“I do trust you.”
“Then let me do this one thing myself.”
I nodded.
When Dr. Rivers closed the door, I stayed in the hallway longer than I meant to.
“Please trust me.”
I hated not knowing.
Still, I let him keep the secret.
***
Mark died on a rainy Tuesday with my hand wrapped around his.
Afterward, the donation team explained what depended on medical suitability. I answered questions and signed what needed signing.
Still, I let him keep the secret.
Whenever someone asked about Mark’s wishes, I gave the same answer.
“Yes. This is what he wanted.”
Then Dr. Rivers stopped me in the hallway.
***
At home that night, I opened the envelope.
Inside was a flash drive and a folded note.
“Yes. This is what he wanted.”
“Please don’t watch this because you miss me.
Watch it if somebody makes you doubt me, Sally.
And more importantly, if someone makes you doubt yourself.”
I read it twice.
