“Your wife is severely malnourished. Her organs are under strain and she is fighting an infection. Your son has pneumonia and his lungs are struggling. We will do everything we can. They are both in critical condition.”
Miles stared past the doctor, toward a set of swinging doors. Tessa was somewhere behind them. Cal was in a room filled with machines.
“I left to give them a better life,” he said quietly.
The doctor did not speak. He only placed a hand on Miles’s shoulder for a brief second before moving on.
Hours passed. Nurses moved quickly through hallways. Monitors beeped. A woman in a flannel coat sat beside Miles. She clasped his shaking hand. He recognized her vaguely. Their neighbor. Janet Brookside.
“I checked on Tessa twice,” she said. “She said you were coming home. Everyone else said she was in denial. I should have pushed harder to help.”
Miles swallowed hard. “Where was my mother. She was supposed to look in.”
Janet hesitated. “She moved to Sacramento with your sister. She said she could not wait for you forever.”
The sentence drove a splinter straight into his chest.