Mark’s aunt approached me near the door.
“Sally, can I ask you something?”
Ya sabía que no me gustaría la pregunta.
– ¿Qué?
“¿Mark estaba tomando medicamentos cerca del final que podrían haber afectado su juicio?”
La miré.
“Excuse me?”
“Violet se preguntaba si tal vez no estaba pensando con claridad”.
“Él sabía exactamente lo que quería”.
“I’m not accusing you.”
“Yes, you are.”
She lowered her eyes.
“You’re asking whether I pushed my dying husband into a decision he didn’t understand.”
She said nothing.
Esa noche, entré en la guardería de Cecelia.
I opened my laptop.
And for the first time, I inserted the flash drive.
Part 5: Mark’s Last Defense of Me
Mark appeared on the screen.
He looked thinner than the man living in my memory.
His face was pale. His shoulders seemed smaller.
For a moment, I couldn’t breathe.
Then he spoke.
“If you turned this on because you miss me, shut it off.”
Me cubrí la boca.
Una risa escapó a través de mis lágrimas.
“Ya no puedes mandarme”.
On the video, Mark shifted in his chair.
“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.
