After I left the café, I went straight to the hospital and paid off the remaining balance on my mother's account.
The attending physician pulled me aside. The surgery couldn't wait any longer, he said. Any more delays and we'd be risking her life.
My father died young. My mother raised me alone, and there hadn't been a single easy day in all those years. She'd scraped and sacrificed so I could make something of myself. And just when I'd finally started working, just when she should have been able to rest, they found the heart condition.
I dragged myself through the streets, exhausted down to the bone, and before I knew it I was standing outside the hotel.
I stood in the lobby feeling like a complete joke.
When the elevator doors opened, I was still telling myself to turn around and leave.
My feet carried me inside anyway.
The elevator stopped on the eighth floor without a sound.
I rang the doorbell. Cordelia had already changed into sleepwear, as though she'd been waiting. She looked at me like she'd known all along I would come.
"Come in."
I chose the chair farthest from the bed and sat down.
She must have noticed how tense I was, because she laughed out loud.