Chapter 3 - Strangers
Two days later, Diane came over. I found her in Cecilia's nursery, refolding a pink blanket.
"Diane?"
She looked at me. "Did they take everything? From Julian."
I stopped in the doorway. "What?"
"They'll only use what can actually be donated," I said.
She gripped the blanket tighter. "And you're fine with that?"
"I'm not fine."
"You're acting fine."
"What would you prefer?"
She stared at me. "His heart. His skin. His eyes. All of it, out there with strangers."
"They don't transplant someone's entire eyes."
"You know what I mean."
"Corneal tissue can be donated."
She laughed bitterly. "Does using a nicer phrase make it easier?"
"No."
Her mouth trembled. "How am I supposed to live knowing something that belonged to my son is out there with people I'll never meet?"
"Because Julian was okay with it."
"You agreed to this."
"Yes." I swallowed hard. "That doesn't mean it was easy."
Then Diane looked at my stomach. "You still get part of him."
My hand moved protectively over Cecilia. "Don't."
"What?"
"Don't put her in this."
Diane walked out without answering.
At Julian's memorial, things got worse. One of his uncles hugged me near the flowers. "Julian was helping people right until the end." His aunt nodded. "You must be proud."
"Proud?" Diane had appeared behind us. I turned. "Diane."
"She doesn't get to be proud of this." Everyone nearby went silent. "Julian could barely walk across a room," she continued, "but we're supposed to believe he calmly decided all of this?"
"He did."
"You agreed to it."
"Yes, Diane. I honored my husband's final wish."
Her eyes filled with tears. "At least you're honest about something."
I could have ended it right there. Instead I said, "We're not doing this here."
"Because you can't?"
"Because we're here for Julian."
Then I walked away. I thought silence was kindness. By that evening, silence had become something else entirely.
Julian's aunt approached me near the door. "Was he taking anything that might've affected his judgment?"
I stared at her. "What?"
"Diane said maybe he wasn't thinking clearly."
"Julian knew exactly what he wanted."
"I'm only asking."
"No. You're asking whether I manipulated my dying husband into something he didn't want."
She looked away.
That night I went straight into Cecilia's nursery, opened my laptop, and plugged in the flash drive.
Julian appeared on the screen, thinner than I remembered. "If you're watching this because you miss me, turn it off."
I covered my mouth. "You don't get to boss me around."
He shifted in his chair. "I'm serious, Rach." Then his expression changed. "Mom asked me not to donate. She asked more than once. Then she asked whether the decision was really mine, or yours."
My stomach dropped.
"I told her it was mine." He rubbed his hands over his face. "She can't stand knowing strangers might receive something from me after I'm gone. I understand why." Then he looked straight into the camera. "But grief doesn't get to turn you into the villain, Rachel. Don't protect me by letting her hurt you. And don't let Cecilia grow up thinking her father was too weak to make his own decisions."
I paused the video. "You knew." I stood up so fast the chair scraped backward. "You knew she might do this, and you never told me." I pressed both hands to my stomach. "I was your wife, Julian. You didn't have to protect me from everything."
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It was the first time I'd been angry at him since he died. It felt horrible.
It also felt honest.
