Page 101 of Don't Go

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"Yes."

"This is Patricia. I'm calling from the surgical scheduling office at the foundation."

"Yes."

"Ms. Vela, I have your daughter's name in front of me, and I don't get to make calls like this very often on a Monday morning. We have moved her up."

I didn’t — I couldn’t — I wasn’t breathing.

"Ms. Vela, are you with me?"

"Yes. Yes, I'm with you."

"Bonnie has been reclassified. We are doing a preoperative review. The surgery is on Thursday morning. The surgeon is Dr.Garrison. The procedure is the septal myectomy Dr. Reyes has been requesting."

"Patricia, did you say Thursday?"

"Thursday. Yes, ma'am. The surgery is on Thursday. Six days from now."

There was a knock at the door.

Dr. Reyes was at the door. He had a chart against his chest, his glasses up in his hair. He saw the phone in my ear. He stopped in the doorway and waited.

"Patricia, Patricia, I have to go. Dr. Reyes is here."

"Yes, ma'am. We will be in touch. I'll email you the pre-op time."

"Thank you. Thank you, Patricia. Thank you."

I hung up.

Dr. Reyes was watching me. "You got the call."

"I got the call. Dr. Reyes — "

"They also called me at sunrise."

He came over to me. Dr. Reyes wasn't a man who hugged, but he put his hand on my shoulder and squeezed it once.

"We are going on Thursday, Sabrina."

"Thursday."

"Garrison. Memorial. Three days from this morning."

The crying came up.

It came up bigger than the room. Dr. Reyes didn't move. He stood there with his hand on my shoulder. He let me cry until Bonnie shifted in the bed behind us. He glanced at Bonnie, then turned back to me.

"I have to do rounds. I'll be back in a few hours."

"Yeah."

"I'll see you Thursday morning at Memorial."

He left.

I texted Beau.

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