"Not bad, not bad at all. Oh, throw those ribs in the pot too while you're at it. If they turn out good, I'll reward you tonight..."
Then came the sharp, crackling hiss of food hitting hot oil.
Alfred's voice carried a smile. "Deal."
A beat passed before he seemed to remember the call. He came back to me.
"What's up?"
I was on the verge of tears, but I swallowed them down and forced my voice steady.
"I'm at the hospital. I need someone to sign a form. Could you come..."
There was almost no hesitation.
His answer was immediate, his tone flat.
"Sorry, I'm in the middle of something right now. I can't make it back."
"Why don't you sign it yourself? I'll come see you at the hospital once I'm done here."
His voice was so cold, so casual, so utterly routine. In that moment, the tears I'd been holding back spilled down my face all at once.
I laughed softly. "Okay."
The doctor urged me again and again to get a family member to sign. I clenched my jaw.
"I'll sign it myself. If I die, that's on me."
After the surgery, I stayed in the hospital for four full days.
Alfred didn't come to see me. Not once.