Betrayed (Rosato & DiNunzio, #2)(63)

Judy took her aunt’s hand, which felt chilly. “Aunt Barb, we’re here. We love you.”

Her mother frowned. “Don’t wake her. She needs to sleep.”

The nurse walked to the bed and picked up a white cylinder with a bright green light on one end, which was attached to a covered dispenser on a stalk. “Ladies, this is her pain medication. All she has to do is press this green light. It will dispense morphine every fifteen minutes, but not more frequently than that.” She crossed back to an opening in the privacy curtain. “I’m here if you need anything. I’ll be back to check on her.”

“Thank you,” Judy and her mother said in unison, then when they were alone, silence descended again, for a moment.

“Judy,” her mother said, her tone weary. She sank into an institutional chair on the other side of the bed. Her makeup had worn off and her features finally relaxed, as if she had kicked out the emotional jambs. “Let go of her hand and sit down. It’s going to be a while.”

“I guess you’re right.” Judy was hoping to make peace, so she released her aunt’s hand, rolled over a stool on wheels, and perched on it uncomfortably.

“She doesn’t look that good, does she?” Her mother gazed down at Aunt Barb, with a slight frown. “She is pale, but it’s probably the stress of the procedure. The trauma of it.”

“I’m sure but they got all the cancer, so that’s wonderful.” Judy felt her heart lift, but her mother seemed not to hear her.

“I watched a video of it on YouTube. It’s not a pretty operation.”

Judy recoiled. “I’m just glad it was a success.”

“They have everything on the Internet nowadays.” Her mother’s gaze remained on Aunt Barb. “You can see medical videos of a breast reconstruction, of mastectomies with the flap or without one, same with expanders. Everything you can imagine. Women make their own video blogs, too. Survivors, that is. I found it very helpful. You should take a look.”

Judy couldn’t imagine taking a look.

“It’s a wealth of information.”

Judy didn’t reply, realizing that when she and her mother were talking, it was never real conversation, wherein one person replied to the other. It was more like they both took turns filling up the air with words, in a series of familial non sequiturs.

“We should be quiet so she can sleep,” her mother added, though she was the only one talking, so Judy conceded the obvious, that she might as well work while her aunt was asleep. She leaned over, grabbed her bag, unpacked her laptop, and lost herself in her email for another hour.

“Iris?” her aunt whispered, out of the blue.

“Huh?” Judy placed the laptop on the floor and rolled her stool over to the bed and clutched the bed rail, and her mother did the same thing on the other side of the bed.

“It’s Delia. Barb? Are you awake?”

“Iris?” her aunt whispered again, her eyelids fluttering.

“Not Iris, Delia,” her mother answered, pursing her lips.

“Aunt Barb, it’s Judy and Mom.” Judy reached for her aunt’s hand, which felt warmer. “We’re here, and you’re fine. Your operation was fine.”

“Iris,” her aunt said, more distinctly, and opened her eyes. Her gaze was an unfocused blue, shifting from Judy to her mother, taking them in only vaguely. “Oh, hello … I was thinking of … Iris.”

Judy squeezed her hand. “We love you, Aunt Barb. We’re here for you.”

“Iris was with me … she helped me…” Her aunt’s voice trailed off. “She was there with me … in the beginning, before they put the mask on … I could feel her presence…”

“Really?” Judy asked, surprised, but her mother shot her a look.

“Judy, please don’t encourage this. You’ll have her seeing ghosts, for God’s sake.” Her mother picked up a small bottle of water from the bed table and twisted off the cap. “Barb, are you thirsty? Does your throat hurt?”

“Judy?” Aunt Barb turned her head toward Judy and squeezed her hand, though her grip was weak. “Do you … hear me … about Iris? I mean, I know she’s … gone … but she was there … she told me everything was going to be okay … I felt so comforted…”

“Aw,” Judy said, touched. “I bet that was very comforting.”

“It was and I … I … want to know what happened to her … I want to know … what time is it … today is Monday, right? Is it?”

“Yes, it’s Monday.” Judy checked her watch. “It’s about five thirty.”

“Today was the day … you were going to find out … you’re going to call somebody … about Iris…”

Judy’s mother interjected, “Barb, have some water, will you? The nurse told us your throat would be dry. Are you in any pain?”

Aunt Barb shook her head, agitated. “It hurts, my chest…”

Judy’s mother reached for the white morphine dispenser. “Here. You have pain meds, dear.”

Aunt Barb ignored her, turning to Judy. “Judy, did you … call? What did they … say?”

Judy patted her aunt’s hand. “You mean about Iris’s autopsy? I called earlier today, but they said to call back later and I didn’t get a chance.”