Chapter 2 - The Third Button
By my eighth month, Julian had weakened much faster than either of us expected. One morning I found him in front of our bedroom mirror, struggling with his shirt buttons.
"Give me that."
"I've got it."
"You put the third button through the fourth hole."
He looked down. "Fashion."
"You look like a confused accordion."
That pulled a tired laugh out of him. I stepped closer and fixed the shirt myself. His hands had started trembling more often lately.
"Don't look at me like that," he said.
"Like what?"
"Like you're memorizing me."
I stopped. "I wasn't."
"You were."
I finished the last button and straightened his collar. "I want to remember everything so I can tell our daughter who you really were."
His expression changed. Then he caught my wrist. "My mom asked about the donation again."
Diane had always been warm toward me. During the worst weeks of my morning sickness, she'd shown up with groceries and tiny yellow socks because, according to her, our baby was "going to drown in pink" otherwise.
"I'll talk to her," I said.
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because she'll listen to you."
"That's usually a good thing."
"Not this time."
I sat beside him. "What happened?"
He looked down at his hands. "She thinks I shouldn't donate."
"She actually said that to you?"
"More than once."
"Why?"
He hesitated. "She can't handle the idea that something of mine might end up belonging to somebody else."
I squeezed his hand. "She's losing her son, Julian. I can't exactly be angry at her for saying things out of grief."
"I know."
"Maybe she just needs time."
"She needs something to be angry at." He looked directly at me. "And I don't want that something to be you."
I squeezed his hand harder. "You're asking me to stay out of it."
"I'm asking you not to make her grief your responsibility."
A few weeks later, Julian started asking to speak with Dr. Ellison alone. The first time, I teased him about it. The second time, I lingered outside the door.
"What are you arranging?"
He leaned back against the pillows. "Something I need to handle."
"Without me?"
"Yes. But it's for you."
"That somehow makes it worse."
A faint smile crossed his face. "Please trust me."
"I do trust you."
"Then let me handle this one thing myself."
I nodded, and when Dr. Ellison closed the door behind him, I stayed in the hallway far longer than I should have. I hated not knowing. Still, I let Julian keep his secret.
He died on a rainy Tuesday, my hand wrapped around his.
Afterward, the donation team explained everything depended on medical suitability. I answered the necessary questions. Signed the forms. Whenever anyone asked about Julian's wishes, I gave the same answer.
"Yes. This is what he wanted."
Then Dr. Ellison stopped me in the hallway and handed me the envelope.
That night, I finally opened it. Inside was a flash drive and a folded note.
Please don't watch this because you miss me. Watch it if somebody makes you doubt me, Rachel. And more importantly, if somebody makes you doubt yourself.
I read it twice. "You're dead," I told the note. "You don't get to give me instructions anymore."
May you like
Cecilia kicked beneath my ribs. I looked down. "Your father is annoying me from beyond the grave. He deserved that."
Then I put the flash drive away.
