Page 143 of The Love Operation

Mom turns toward me in her chair. “What did you come here looking for, Cordelia?” Her tone isn’t unkind, but it is firm.

“I wanted your advice. To help me come up with a strategy to get back on track.”

She gives me a tired smile. “I think you came looking for an answer I can’t give you, not only because it’s your life, and you have to decide how to live it, but because my priorities have shifted. I have a new worldview. I’m not sure you’re going to like the advice I have to give because it will sound different than the advice I’ve previously given.” She reaches over and touches my cheek, smiling. “I know this because you’re like me, and I wouldn’t have wanted to hear it either at your age.”

I stare at her and swallow hard. “Is this why you decided to retire?”

“Why don’t you go inside and make us a pot of coffee. Your dad will be coming back soon, so make enough for him too. I’ll tell you my thoughts when you come back.”

I nod, my smile perfunctory. “Okay.”

I rise, not because I want coffee, but because I need a break from this conversation.

The cool air hits my face as I step into the kitchen and busy myself with making the coffee. After I flip the switch, I lean against the counter and stare at the garden framed in the window, trying not to think about what my mother is going to say.

The same hummingbird flies into view, this time with a smaller electric-green one. They spin around each other, darting between blossoms, chasing like children playing tag. Then the smaller one lands on a branch that can’t possibly support it. And it just . . . is.

I’ve never seen one go still before, and for some stupid reason, it makes my eyes sting.

The machine beeps, and I marvel that it’s had enough time to fill the carafe. The dark liquid steams up from mismatched floral mugs as I pour slowly. As eager as I was to come here, I am less so now. I sense that my mother and I are diverging. The thought makes me incredibly sad.

I lift the mugs and decide that I’ll try to keep an open mind because I don’t want to lose our bond. If medicine stops being the thing that connects us, maybe we’ll just have to find a new way.

That thought lifts me a little, and I head back outside. Her face lights up when she sees me, and reflexively, I smile.

“Cordelia!” she says, standing and holding out her arms. “It’s so good to see you. I didn’t think you were coming until later.”

I pause, my feet sticky on the brick steps.

“Is that coffee?” she asks. “What a great idea.”

She gestures to the table, and my heart begins to feel like it’s trapped between two gears turning against each other.

“I made tea, but coffee will be perfect,” she says brightly, then wraps her arms around me.

I can’t move, partly because of the full cups in my hands, partly because I don’t understand what’s happening.

She releases me. “Come, sit. You said you wanted to talk. What’s going on, baby? What can I help you with?”

I gape at her, but she only looks confused when I do.

“Mom,” I say, a marble forming in my throat. “Are you joking?”

Her eyebrows scrunch together. Her hand flutters up to her face. “Joking?” she says tentatively. “What would I be joking about?”

The yard goes fuzzy at the edges.

I forget that I’ve already descended the stairs, and I try to step down again. My legs are weak, and I lose my footing. The mugs fly through the air like birds, then come crashing down, shards scattering across the aggregate.

Chapter 37

Paging Dr. Daughter (Actually, Cancel That)

My mother springs into action.

For a second, I watch her pick up a broken mug handle, then rise. “I’m going to run inside and get a garbage bag.”

The fog lifts. “Wait. Do you remember our conversation?”