"Bro, had another heart episode last night. Jane didn't mean to bail—it's on me, this broken-down body always dragging you down."
His face flushed, nowhere near that of a man battling heart disease.
Jane soothed Winston with gentle words, "Winston, it's not your fault, you're ill, it's only right that I look after you first."
I laughed bitterly, "He's sick, sure, but wasn't Emily too? Ever as devoted to her as you are to him? You couldn't even spare her one last look!"
Emily was so young, grappling with the sheer terror of her impending death, courageous enough to stage her own funeral.
It crushed me to hear why—why she wouldn't use the remaining time to do something delightful.
She hoped the mock funeral would bring her busy mom to her side, so she could see her mom with her eyes, if only for a moment.
But even that modest wish was too much for Jane to honor.
Just how busy can one be, to always be at Winston's side?
Facing this heartless woman, it felt like my heart had sprung a leak, the love seeping out grain by grain.
Yet, Jane remained indifferent, "What, thinking I should be guilty about Emily now?"