I kept telling myself I was not a terrible mother for accepting. I told myself there were worse things than being judged by strangers. There were hospital bills. There were doctors speaking in careful voices. There was my daughter, Lisa, lying motionless in a bed while time kept slipping away.
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But on our wedding night, Adrian handed me a crimson envelope with Lisa’s name written across the front. Weddinggift registry
“Open it,” he said.
I stared at him.
My comatose daughter’s name was in my new husband’s pocket. Children’seducational toys
“Adrian,” I said, “why is my daughter’s name on that?”
