My parents refused to care for my two-year-old dau…
We were in the waiting room when my parents walked in.
I saw my mother first. She looked older somehow, more tired. My father was behind her, his face set in that stern expression he wore when he was about to deliver a lecture.
They spotted me immediately.
“Sarah. We need to talk,” Mom said, marching over. “You can’t just ignore us forever.”
Emma shrank against my side.
She didn’t recognize them. They had seen her so rarely that they were essentially strangers to her.
“Not here,” I said quietly. “I have an appointment.”
“We’ve been trying to reach you for two weeks. Two weeks, Sarah. Do you know what you’ve put us through?”
“I know exactly what I’ve put you through. The same thing you put me through when I was in emergency surgery and you chose a concert over your daughter.”
“We didn’t know it was serious.”
“I told you I was in an ambulance. I told you I needed heart surgery. What part of that didn’t sound serious?”
My father finally spoke.
“You’ve always exaggerated things, Sarah. Every little ache and pain is a crisis with you. We thought you were being dramatic.”
“I almost died,” I said, my voice shaking. “My heart stopped during surgery. They had to restart it. I could have left Emma without her mother. And you didn’t even call to check on me afterward.”
“We were going to,” Mom said weakly. “We just got busy.”
“Too busy for two weeks? You found time to call me seventy times yesterday about rent money, but you couldn’t find time to ask if your daughter survived surgery.”
A nurse appeared in the doorway.
“Sarah Mitchell? Dr. Chin is ready for you.”
I stood, taking Emma’s hand.
“I have to go.”
“We’re not finished talking about this,” Dad said.
“Yes,” I said. “We are. We’re finished talking about everything.”
I started to walk away, but Mom grabbed my arm.
