Slowly, she turns her head, but doesn’t say anything.
“Esben? Can you...?” I can’t take my eyes from Steff, and I watch him kiss Steffi on the cheek.
He holds his sweet kiss for so long that I know it’s good-bye. And his good-bye is very important, because Steffi knows my connection to him and what he’s done to get me here. I feel extraordinary pain lingering in my heart, though I block it out. I’ll let it hurt later.
Blind now, because I cannot see through my bleary eyes, I hear the door swing open and shut, and then there are footsteps, and I know Cal and Joan have moved into the room.
“These are people who love you,” I say. I blink and try to clear my vision. “Please don’t be upset with me.”
A wash of emotion rushes over her pale face, and she lifts a hand to cover her eyes.
“They love you,” I say. “It’s all okay. They love you. They want to be here for you.”
Steffi starts to panic and flounders for me, yanking her oxygen away. “They’re mad.” She begins to cry. “They’re mad, aren’t they?”
“No, no, no.” I replace her mask. “Listen to me. You listen to me very clearly. No. They love you. You are their daughter. They are your parents. And they are here.”
Her eyes water so much that my heart further shreds. But she nods, and behind her tears, I can see tremendous relief. I can see peace.
“Steffi?” Joan says from the other side of the bed.
“You are our joy.” Cal’s voice is steady, steadier than it should be.
Steffi turns her head.
Nobody moves, but then, with clear effort, she inches an arm their way. Both sit and lean against the bed so that they are as close to her as possible.
Joan smiles. “We love you, do you hear me? We love you.”
Steffi starts to protest and gropes for something by the bed. Jamie again gets to her and hands her something.
“It’s a morphine drip,” Jamie explains to us quietly. “Steffi can hit it when she needs pain relief.”
When Steffi hits that button three times, it’s impossible to watch and impossible for my heart and my soul not to feel savagely ripped apart.
“I’m sorry for what I did,” Steffi says with a rasp.
“No.” Cal shakes his head. “No, you did nothing wrong. No apologies.”
It takes a bit, but Steffi nods.
Joan is upset, but she hides it well. “I know that you’re apologizing in your head. Don’t, okay? We are all together now, and that’s what matters. We are your mom and dad, as we have always been. You’ve never been without us, and you never will be. It’s very simple.”
Steffi’s smile is as broad as she can make it right now, and Cal and Joan both bend over to hold her. It’s only then that I notice the IV in her arm, presumably for the morphine.
I feel as though I should maybe step out of the room and give them some time, but I know there might not be much, and I can’t stand to leave. Plus, Steffi’s hold on my hand, while weak, is steadfast. So, I stay.
For a long time, we all just sit with her. Later, she brushes away the oxygen mask.
“Joan? Remember the...curtains you put up for me?” It clearly takes effort for her to say even this. “Sheers. White. With stars.”
Joan touches Steffi’s face. “I do remember.”
“I loved those. You did something...so nice. For me.” Steffi’s face doesn’t change, but we all know that she’s hitting upon a good memory. “Very pretty.”
“I’m glad you liked those.” Joan sounds so motherly that it makes my heart ache. “We have pictures of you all over the house. And your room is still your room. We haven’t touched it.”
“So sorry...” Steffi is getting weaker. “So sorry I wasn’t better. Smart enough to know...” She looks agitated, as much as she can now. “I should have said yes. Chosen you.”
