Chapter 5: The Same Page
Diane arrived at half past twelve.
She walked in, looked at me, looked at Noah, and didn't say anything for a moment.
Then she sat on the edge of the bed and put her arm around me, careful not to disturb him.
"Brandon told me something happened," she said.
"Yes."
"He didn't tell me what."
"I know.
I wanted to tell you myself."
I told her everything.
The email.
The consultant.
The second round.
The four words at the bottom of the page.
Diane listened without interrupting, which was not something she did easily.
When I finished, she was quiet for a long moment.
"She was in the waiting room with you," Diane said.
"Yes."
"When the second round failed."
"Yes."
Diane looked at the window.
Her jaw was set.
"What time does she get here?"
"Two."
"Good." She stood up and straightened her jacket.
"Then I have time to get coffee."
Brandon came back from the nurses' station with the printed document in a plain folder.
He set it on the table beside the bed without opening it.
We didn't need to read it again.
We knew what it said.
At five minutes to two, Kimberly knocked twice and opened the door.
She was dressed carefully.
Hair done.
A small bouquet of flowers in one hand, a paper bag from the bakery Noah's room had been filled with the smell of for three days.
She smiled when she saw Diane, a small adjustment in the smile, but she kept it.
"Diane.
I didn't know you'd be here."
"I wanted to see my nephew," Diane said pleasantly.
Kimberly set the flowers on the windowsill and turned to me.
"How are you feeling?
You look better.
You have more color." She looked at Noah.
"He's so beautiful.
He really is."
"Sit down, Kimberly," I said.
Something in my voice made her stop.
She looked at Brandon.
He was standing near the door, not sitting, not moving to greet her.
She looked back at me.
She sat.
"Brandon said you wanted to talk," she said carefully.
"As a family."
"We found something," I said.
"An email.
One you sent five years ago to a private consultant you hired to review my IVF file."
The color in her face didn't disappear all at once.
It went slowly, like water draining.
"I don't know what you're referring to."
"You paid him to review the protocol after the first round failed.
He gave you a written report.
You never told us." I kept my voice level.
"And then you wrote back to him."
"Olivia, I was trying to help.
I was worried about you.
I wanted a second opinion—"
"You wrote four words," I said.
"At the bottom of your reply.
Would you like to tell me what they were?
Or should I read them to you?"
Kimberly looked at Brandon.
"Brandon, this is—"
"Don't," he said.
Just the one word.
She looked back at me.
For the first time since I had known her, she had nothing ready.
"You were in that waiting room," I said.
"When the second round failed.
You held my hand."
"I was supporting you—"
"You knew it was going to fail." My voice didn't rise.
"You made sure of it."
"That is not—"
"It's in writing, Kimberly." Brandon crossed to the table and picked up the folder.
He held it out to her.
"It's in your words.
Our lawyer has the full document."
She didn't take the folder.
The room was very quiet.
Noah was asleep.
Diane stood near the window with her arms folded, watching.
Kimberly's hands were in her lap.
She looked down at them.
"I was trying to protect my son," she said finally.
Her voice had changed.
The warmth was gone.
What was underneath it was harder and older.
"You couldn't give him children.
I thought eventually—"
"You thought I'd leave," Brandon said.
She didn't answer.
"Say it," he said.
"Say what you thought."
"I thought you deserved better." She looked up at him, and there was something almost defiant in it.
"I still think that."
"Better than his wife," Diane said from the window.
"Better than his son."
Kimberly stood.
"I am not going to be spoken to like this."
"Sit down," I said.
May you like
She stopped.
"We're not finished," I said.
