“My mother asked me about the organ donation plan again yesterday,” he mentioned quietly.
His mother, Brenda, had always been incredibly warm and supportive toward me since the wedding.
When morning sickness had flattened me during the first trimester, she had shown up with groceries and tiny yellow socks because she insisted the baby was going to drown in pink clothes.
“I will talk to her about it,” I offered, looking at my husband.
“No, please don’t,” he said quickly.
“Why not?” I asked, surprised by his sudden pushback.
“Because she will actually listen to you,” he explained.
I frowned at his logic. “That is usually considered a good thing between family members.”
“Not in this particular situation,” he replied.
“What happened when she called?” I inquired.
Liam sat down heavily on the edge of our unmade bed. “She strongly thinks I shouldn’t go through with the donation.”
“She actually told you that directly?” I asked in disbelief.
“She has brought it up more than once now,” he admitted.
“Did she give you a specific reason why she feels that way?” I pressed.
He looked down at his trembling hands resting on his knees. “She simply cannot handle the psychological idea that something belonging to me might end up inside a stranger.”
I walked over and sat down right beside him. “She is losing her only son, Liam. I cannot exactly bring myself to be angry at her emotional words.”
“I know that,” he murmured.
“Then maybe she just needs a little more time to digest everything,” I suggested softly.
“She needs something tangible to be angry at right now,” he said quietly.
His bright blue eyes lifted to meet mine. “And I refuse to let that target be you.”
I squeezed his cold hand with all the strength I had. “You are asking me to completely stay out of this family conflict.”
“I am asking you not to make her overwhelming grief your personal burden to carry,” he corrected gently.
A few weeks after that conversation, Liam began asking the medical staff to speak to Dr. Barrett entirely alone.
The first time it happened, I teased him about having secret male bonding sessions.
The second time he asked me to leave the room, I stayed right by the closed door in the hallway.
“What exactly are you arranging in there?” I asked him later that afternoon when the doctor left.
Liam leaned back against his propped-up pillows in the hospital bed. “Just something I need to handle on my own.”
“Without including me?” I pressed, hurt by the exclusion.
“Yes, but I promise you it is ultimately for your benefit,” he said softly.
I stared at him with concern. “That answer is somehow so much worse.”
A faint, tired smile touched the corners of his pale mouth. “Please just trust me on this.”
“You know I trust you,” I replied softly.
“Then let me do this one small thing by myself,” he pleaded quietly.
I nodded slowly, yielding to his request despite my nagging anxiety.
When Dr. Barrett closed the bedroom door behind him during his next visit, I stayed in the dark hallway much longer than I meant to.
