Page 210 of The Encore’s Crown

He shoves me again. I let him. His eyes are full now, anger and tears fighting for the same space while he pounds his palms against my chest like he can force the whole thing through me and out the other side.

“It’s fucking stupid,” I say. “But this isn’t new. We know how she is.”

“That doesn’t make it better.”

He shoves me once more before the strength falls out of him. He drops into a crouch against the wall, hands pressed together in front of his mouth like prayer, breathing through his nose. I stand over him and wait.

“We can’t upset her right now,” I say when his breathing finally slows. “Just keep your shit together for a few more days. Let her get stronger, then we’ll tell her.”

He closes his eyes. Natalia slips through the door behind us.

“She’s out,” she says quietly.

Rithy pushes himself to his feet. His face is blotched, his eyes wet, and he doesn’t bother hiding either one.

“Did you hear that bullshit in there?”

Natalia nods. Her face pulls tight with concern, not only for Ma but for both of us.

“She’s only ever known him,” she says. “She was a scared teenager when they met, and she just woke up from something terrifying. Her mind probably reached for what it knows.”

“What it knows tried to fucking murder her.”

“I get that.” Natalia moves closer. “I’m not saying it makes sense. I’m saying it doesn't mean she loves you any less.”

She reaches out and closes her hand around his arm. Rithy looks down at it, then up at her and his tension eases.

There’s something between them now that wasn’t there before. Something built in all the moments I missed while I was passed out against a waiting-room wall, taking a shower, going for a run, or disappearing long enough to piss. She learned when to joke with him and when not to. He learned how to let her touch him when he was falling apart.

Natalia isn’t just a miracle that happened to me.

Somehow, she’s become one for all of us.

Ma improves in small, steady ways.

She stays awake longer. Her voice strengthens from scraped air into a whisper we can understand without leaning over her mouth. The bruising around her throat begins to fade at the edges, and physical therapists help her sit upright, then stand beside the bed with both hands wrapped around a walker. Every new thing feels impossible until she does it. Then we immediately want the next one.

The doctors clear her for ice chips, followed by thickened liquids and food soft enough that Rithy says it looks pre-chewed. She eats three spoonfuls of mashed potatoes before announcing they have no salt and refusing the fourth. That's the first moment I believe she might actually be okay.

The questions about Dad keep coming. At first, our excuses are easy because they fit the man she knows. He doesn’t like hospitals. He has trouble driving at night. His back is bothering him. He’s at home watching television and waiting for her to get stronger. Ma accepts each answer with the resigned disappointment of someone who has spent most of her life expecting nothing better from him. Dad choosing his recliner over her hospital bed doesn’t surprise her, even if he’s the reason she’s lying in it.

That might be the sickest part.

On the second day without the tube, she asks for her phone.

“It’s at the house,” I tell her.

“Call him on the hospital phone.”

She reaches for it, and Rithy suddenly knocks her remote over on purpose, it falls to the ground with a clatter.

Rithy looks at the fully charged phone in my hand and turns his cough into something that almost sounds natural. Natalia offers Ma another ice chip before she can question it. Ma opens her mouth automatically, and Marisol arrives for medication rounds before the next demand can form. Saved by crushed ice and scheduled painkillers.

On the fourth afternoon since she woke up, Ma can sit up without the bed supporting all of her weight. Her voice is still rough, but each word comes out clearly. A tray rests across her lap with chicken broth, gelatin, and applesauce lined up in separate plastic containers. She hasn’t touched any of it.

“Eat something,” I tell her.

“No.”