Winston, feeling the threat, flushed but tried to play it cool, "Jane, cool it with the anger. Don't let me mess up what you two have. If Mike can't see the truth about Emily, I'll act like I don't know either."
I turned to Jane, "You believe she was faking too?"
Jane stayed silent, but her look told me everything I needed to know.
I burst out laughing, though it was more bitter than amused.
"Jane, you're not cut out to be a mom."
I spread Emily's medical records across the table, notices of her critical condition stamped all over.
Jane glanced over them dismissively, "Seen all this before. Got anything new?"
Emily was battling acute gastric cancer, her condition fluctuating dangerously. Every critical update from the hospital was communicated to Jane, pleading with her to visit her daughter one last time.
To Jane, though, it was just another boy crying wolf.
And I was that boy, supposedly lying through his teeth.
I remembered Emily's face when she got the news, her weak smile breaking through, "Dad, let's do the mock funeral. It's okay if it's just Mom and you."