She.
“George, let me come in.”
“No,” he says. “You can’t do that.”
George is an old man, but quite large and not all that frail. I need to get past him, though. I need to see for myself what he’s hiding. Then I notice George’s trash can. His empty trash can. George has got a thing about those cans. I reach over, grab the handle, and throw it as hard as I can over his fence and into hisneighbor’s yard, where it smashes into the shrubs and sends dirt flying.
“What are you doing!” George shouts as he rushes out of his gate and toward the neighbor’s front yard.
And just like that, I am at the door. And then inside George’s house.
“Hello!” I yell as I run through the labyrinth of long halls and small rooms. “Hello!” It smells vaguely of mildew, and orange-scented air freshener. The ancient kitchen appliances were once a bright yellow, the linoleum black-and-white-checked. There isn’t a dirty dish in sight. I startle at a sound in the corner, but when I look, it’s only a cat with bright blue eyes.
I hear the front door open. George is coming. I race to check upstairs.
I freeze on the landing at the top of the steps. Through a doorway, I see the end of a bed. And feet. They’re not moving. I hurry down the hall, stop short in the doorway.
She’s there. My mom is right there, laid out in George’s bed.
Her eyes are closed. But there is color in her face and a bandage on her head.
“Mom?” I move closer. Reach out. Put a hand on her arm. She’s warm to the touch.
George is behind me in the doorway now. “Why didn’t you tell someone she was here?” I ask him. “It’s been three days.”
“No, I don’t think—One day. It’s been one day …” George says, squinting toward the windows like he’s checking to see if it’s day or night. He shakes his head a little. “And she asked me not to. Every time she woke up she said it:Don’t tell anyone.” he says. “Over and over again. She kept saying that. And so I did what she wanted. But I said thirty-six hours was the limit. Then I was calling an ambulance. And only because there were no signs of internal bleeding. I checked. I did the best I could.”
The doorbell rings. Blue and red lights strobing down the hall. Wilson. It must be.
“George, can you go let the police in? Tell them we need an ambulance.”
“But I don’t—”
“George, please! It’s beenthreedays. She needs to go to a hospital.”
“Mom?” I ask again as George disappears downstairs. I shake her leg a little.
Her eyes flutter open. She stares at me for a moment. I can’t tell whether she’s even seeing me. But then her lips curve into a smile.
“You’re here,” she says finally. “You came.”
The New York Times
EMILY TRACHTENBERG
DARDEN PHARMACEUTICALS WAS NOTIFIED OF ADVERSE DRUG REACTIONS
A months-long investigation has revealed that Darden Pharmaceuticals may have known of potentially lethal risks of Xytek to fetuses in utero. A review of internal documents provided by an anonymous whistle-blower has revealed that several OB-GYNs contacted Darden about these potential adverse side effects. Specifically, Dr. Frederick D’Angelo of Vanderbilt University Hospital has stated that he personally contacted Darden twice to warn them. First, shortly after the drug was introduced to the market, then again after the first lawsuits were filed. This group of OB-GYNs requested that the drug be removed from the market until further investigation. In neither instance was an adverse event report filed with the FDA.
There is currently multidistrict litigation against Darden Pharmaceuticals for alleged damages resulting from Xytek’s impact on infants, including disabilities, injury, and death. Some of the most catastrophic consequences are alleged to have been sustained by fetuses during gestation.
One previously anonymous, now named, bellwether plaintiff in the lawsuit, Jules Kovacis, alleges that taking Xytek caused her daughter, now nearly three, lifelong debilitating injury. Ms. Kovacis was, until recently, employed by Blair, Stevenson, but she resigned when that firm took over as lead counsel for Darden. When reached for comment, Darden said that it looks forward to fully cooperating with any investigations and defending itself in court.
Sources say that the FBI is investigating the procedures with respect to Xytek’s sale and marketing, as well as its possible connection to the death of Doug Sinclair, a former Darden employee.
Epilogue
I run my hand across the books on the shelf in Cleo’s childhood bedroom. The poetry is from high school: Mary Oliver, Adrienne Rich, Sylvia Plath, Emily Dickinson, Maya Angelou. Up above are a handful of books she saved from earlier childhood:Out of My Mind, From the Mixed-Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler, The Giver, Little Women.Tucked at the far end is a single board book—a battered copy ofGoodnight Moon.It’s the one I used to read to Cleo every night, long past when it was age-appropriate. I pull it out now and sit down in the deep windowsill to thumb through the thick pages. It turns out I still know the words by heart. I will have to ask Cleo if she remembers when she arrives.
