Chapter 5 - The Glass Partition
The oncology intensive care unit smelled differently than the regular wards. It smelled like pure isopropyl alcohol and the heavy, electric hum of air scrubbers running at maximum output.
When I stepped out of the elevator on the fourth floor, Arthur and Evelyn were sitting in the waiting alcove.
My mother leapt up the moment she saw me. A manic, triumphant light flared in her eyes. She thought she had won. She thought the social media shame, the family phone calls, the pressure from my workplace had finally cracked my spine.
"Clara!" she exclaimed, rushing forward with her arms outstretched. "Oh, thank God! I knew you would come to your senses. Pastor Thomas said a prayer for you this morning, and—"
I didn't stop walking. I didn't even look at her.
I walked straight past her outstretched arms as if she were a ghost made of rancid air. When she grabbed my sleeve, I spun around and ripped my arm away with such sudden, violent force that she stumbled back into the row of vinyl chairs.
"Do not touch me," I said. My voice wasn't loud, but the venom in it made the floor nurse freeze at her terminal.
Arthur stood up, his face darkening. "Now see here, Clara! Your mother has been through hell—"
"Shut your mouth, Arthur," I said, staring him dead in his watery eyes. "Before I read the probate fraud documents to the entire waiting room."
Arthur’s mouth clicked shut. The color drained from his jowls until he looked nearly as pale as his son in isolation.
I turned my back on them and approached room 408.
Daniel was sitting upright in the bed, supported by a wedge pillow. The change in forty-eight hours was terrifying. The skin beneath his eyes had sunk into dark, plum-colored hollows. A nasal cannula hissed oxygen into his nostrils, and a triple-lumen central line protruded from his chest beneath a transparent dressing.
Chloe was already inside, wearing a yellow isolation gown, gloves, and an N95 mask. She tapped on the glass and nodded at Daniel.
Daniel looked up. His eyes found mine.
He didn't lift a hand this time. He reached over with trembling fingers, picked up the bedside telephone receiver that connected to the intercom outside the isolation glass, and held it to his ear.
I stood on the corridor side. There was a matching wall-mounted handset beside the door frame.
I lifted it to my ear.
The line clicked. For five seconds, there was only the sound of his ragged, shallow breathing coming through the speaker.
"Clara," his voice rasped. It sounded like paper tearing.
"I have the folder, Daniel," I said.
He closed his eyes. A single tear tracked through the sweat on his cheek. "I didn't know about the trust, Clara. I swear on my life... I didn't know Mom stole Lily's money. I thought it was Dad's savings."
"You didn't ask," I replied, my voice steady, cold, and unyielding. "You knew Lily was dying in Boston. You knew I was losing my apartment. You knew I was driving a beat-up car with no heat in December. And you stood on that porch in Lakewood, drank champagne, and took the keys."
"I know," he choked. "I was selfish. I was thirty years old, and I wanted my dream house. I let Mom convince me that Lily's case was hopeless anyway."
"She wasn't hopeless," I said, every word hitting the glass like a hammer. "The doctor in Boston said she had a forty percent chance of permanent remission if we got the CAR-T cells manufactured before the leukemia crossed the blood-brain barrier. Forty percent, Daniel. That's forty percent more than zero."
Daniel began to weep openly, pressing the plastic telephone receiver against his face. "I'm so sorry, Clara. I'm so sorry. I know sorry doesn't bring her back. I know it means nothing."
"You're right," I said. "It means absolutely nothing."
Daniel swallowed hard, wiping his face on his shoulder. He looked straight into my eyes through the thick pane of glass.
"I called our lawyer this morning," Daniel said, his voice trembling but clear. "Before Mom got here. I signed a deed of transfer. The Lakewood house is being put on the market as of noon today."
I stood motionless.
"Chloe and I are listing it thirty thousand below market value for an immediate cash sale," Daniel continued, struggling for breath. "The equity—every single dollar, including the ninety-two thousand Mom stole from Lily's trust—is being transferred into an irrevocable foundation. The *Lily Pierce Pediatric Leukemia Fund* at Rainbow Babies & Children's Hospital."
Outside in the hallway, Evelyn had crept closer. She couldn't hear Daniel's words through the phone, but she could see his mouth moving.
"Daniel..." I whispered.
"I'm not asking you to forgive me, Clara," he said, fresh tears spilling onto his hospital gown. "And I'm not doing this to buy your bone marrow. If you walk away right now, I won't blame you. If you leave me here to die, you are completely justified. I deserve to be where I am. But that house... that house is soaked in Lily's blood. I won't sleep another night under that roof, whether I live or die."
He let the receiver slip from his fingers. It swung by its coiled cord against the wall, clicking softly.
Inside the room, Daniel laid his head back against the pillow, closed his eyes, and turned his face toward the window overlooking the gray, churning waters of Lake Erie.
May you like
He had given up his leverage. He had given up the house. He was not begging anymore.
***
