“He signed it. Why are you only blaming us?”
“Because you signed it to remove Rosie from your lives,” I said. “Ben signed it to prevent you from removing her from ours.”
People nearby had begun listening.
A nurse paused beside the desk. Two families in the waiting area turned toward us. Even a hospital volunteer stopped arranging magazines.
My mother lowered her voice.
“This is neither the time nor the place.”
“The time was years ago,” I replied, “when you decided Rosie was a burden instead of asking what she wanted.”
My father looked around, suddenly aware of the witnesses.
“We loved both of you.”
“You loved the version of Rosie that did not inconvenience your plans.”
My mother’s eyes dropped.
Neither of them tried to deny the agreement again.
After a long silence, they turned toward the elevator.
They left without seeing Rosie.
When the doors closed behind them, I felt as though a weight had lifted from the entire corridor.
