"Does the nicer phrase make it easier?"
"Yes. That doesn't mean it was easy, Violet."
She looked at my stomach.
"You still get part of him."
My hand moved over Cecelia without thinking.
"Don't."
"What?"
"Don't put her in this."
"You still get part of him."
Violet walked out without answering.
***
At Mark's memorial, she went further.
An uncle hugged me near the flowers.
"Mark was helping people right until the end."
His aunt nodded.
Violet walked out.
"You must be proud."
"Proud?"
Violet had appeared behind us.
I turned.
"Violet."
"She doesn't get to be proud of this."
"You must be proud."
Everyone went quiet.
"Mark could barely walk across a room," she continued. "But somehow we're supposed to believe he calmly chose all of this?"
"He did."
"You agreed to it."
"Yes, Violet. I gave my husband his dying wish."
"Mark could barely walk across a room."
Her eyes filled.
"At least you're honest about something."
I could have ended the argument.
Instead, I said, "We're not doing this here."
"Because you can't?"
"Because we're here for Mark."
"We're not doing this here."
I walked away.
I thought silence was kindness.
By that evening, it had turned into something else.
Mark's aunt stopped me near the door.
"Was he taking anything that affected his judgment?"
I walked away.
"What?"
"Violet said maybe he wasn't thinking clearly."
"Mark knew exactly what he wanted."
"I'm only asking."
"No. You're asking whether I pushed my dying husband into something he didn't want."
She looked away.
"I'm only asking."
***
That night, I went straight to Cecelia's nursery.
I opened my laptop.
