“I mean it, Sal.”
Then his expression changed.
“My mom asked me not to donate.”
I leaned closer.
“She’s asked more than once. And eventually she started asking whether this was really my decision… or yours.”
Mi estómago se apretó.
“Le dije que la decisión era mía”.
Arrastró sus manos lentamente sobre su cara.
“Ella odia la idea de que los extraños podrían recibir algo de mí después de que me haya ido. Yo entiendo eso. Realmente lo hago”.
Se detuvo.
“Pero el dolor no le da permiso a nadie para convertirte en el villano”.
Mi aliento se respiró.
Mark miró directamente a la cámara.
“Don’t protect me by letting her hurt you.”
Tears began sliding down my face.
“And don’t let Cecelia grow up hearing that her father was too confused or too weak to make his own choices.”
