When I get the tears out of my system, I wipe my cheeks and lead her back to the booth. Connor gets up and hugs her.
“This sucks,” he says.
“I agree. It’s brutal.” Becky tosses her purse onto the vinyl seat, removes her coat, and hangs it on the hook. “How are you guys holding up?”
“Not great,” I reply.
“Still no word from your dad?”
I shake my head, and Becky reaches for a cold french fry on my plate. “The most important thing is to stay focused on your mom,” she says. “Your dad can take care of himself.”
“I hope so,” Connor says, “because the internet has no mercy. Have you looked lately?”
“No, I couldn’t take it anymore, so I stopped reading. You should do the same. Both of you. Put your phones away.” She gives Connor a stern look, and he slides it into his back pocket. “What did the cops say, exactly?” Becky asks me with concern.
“Just that they wanted to get everything down, whatever that means. And Dad got a bit testy about social media. I’m not sure if that was a good or bad thing.”
“It’s understandable that he’d be angry,” Becky says. “He should see what he can do to get that group shut down.”
“I hope the cops see it that way.” I check my watch. “We should probably head back up to the ICU. Mom might be out of surgery by now.”
We gather our belongings and leave the cafeteria.
As we walk down the corridor to the elevators, Becky nudges me to look at my phone.
I need to talk to you, but not in front of Connor.
A chill grips my heart. I glance at her, and she puts her finger to her lips to say, “Shh.”
We reach the elevator, and Connor presses the button. When the doors slide open, we step inside and ride up in silence until we get off on the ICU floor. We walk to the waiting area, and I pick up the wall phone to call the nurses’ station. They tell me that Mom is still in surgery, so I relay that information to Becky and Connor.
“I need to use the washroom,” I say to Becky. “Want to come?”
“Sure.” She turns to Connor. “Have a seat. We’ll be back in a bit.”
Without looking up from his phone, he nods, and Becky and I start off down the hall.
“Why do I feel like you have something terrible to tell me?” I ask. “I’m not sure if I can handle any more bad news.”
She wraps her arm around my shoulders. “Sorry, but I need to come clean.”
I frown. “What are you talking about?”
We reach the bathroom but decide to keep walking because neither of us really has to go.
“I might have said something to the police that made them suspicious,” Becky finally confesses. “When I was dropping the chili off at your house this morning, two RCMP officers came to the door looking for your dad. I told them he was at the hospital, but they asked who I was. I said I was your mom’s best friend, and they had questions.”
“Like what?”
She hesitates. “Well ... they asked about your parents’ relationship, and I couldn’t lie. Not to law enforcement.”
Becky hesitates again, and I have to prompt her. “Please, go on.”
“I told them something you don’t know, and now I’m afraid that they’re going to ask you about it, and I want you to hear it from me, not them.”
My heart starts to race, and I stop at the end of the hall. “What is it?”
Becky presses her fingers to the space between her eyebrows. “A few weeks ago, your mom talked to a lawyer about the possibility of a legal separation, maybe even divorce.”
