Nobody spoke.
A woman sitting near the ICU doors lowered her magazine.
One nurse was openly staring.
My mother looked around and realized strangers had heard everything.
Her voice became low.
“Lauren, family matters should remain inside the family.”
I almost laughed.
“That philosophy didn’t seem to bother you when you were preparing paperwork to remove Grace from hers.”
Mom’s eyes filled with tears.
I didn’t know whether they were tears of shame, anger, or humiliation.
Maybe all three.
Dad picked up his coat.
“We’ll talk when you’re rational.”
“I’m perfectly rational.”
“We came here to see our daughter.”
“No.”
My father turned.
“What did you say?”
“You’re not walking into that room tonight.”
“You cannot stop us.”
“Grace gave Daniel medical authority.”
Dad looked at him.
Daniel finally spoke.
“She needs peace.”
Dad’s expression hardened.
“I am her father.”
“And I’m her husband.”
The two men stared at each other.
Four years earlier, I might have wondered which of them had more right to speak for Grace.
Now I knew the answer.
Neither.
Grace would decide when she woke up.
“We’ll ask her,” I said. “When she’s able to choose for herself.”