For a second, I really thought I had heard her wrong. I thought it was the drugs. I actually laughed a little, because it sounded so silly.
“The parking,” I repeated.
Kayla nodded. She looked like she wanted to be anywhere else in the world.
“The garage here is eight dollars an hour,” she said quietly. “After four hours, it’s a flat thirty-two. Your son said they’d already been here almost five hours. He said there was no point paying for another day when you’d just be sleeping anyway.”
I had just come through heart surgery. A valve replacement. The surgeon had told me there was a small chance I wouldn’t wake up at all. I’d signed the forms. I’d made my peace.
And my three children had promised me, every one of them, that they would be there when I opened my eyes.
