Chapter 2
Mireya’s emergency-room visit lasted almost four hours.
The physician did not dramatize what had happened.
That made Cullen listen more carefully.
Mireya had experienced a genuine asthma flare.
Her oxygen level had improved after the inhaler.
The delay had been unnecessary and potentially dangerous.
“Can anxiety make breathing feel worse?” Cullen asked.
“Absolutely.”
The physician looked directly at him.
“But that doesn’t mean asthma is pretend.”
Margaret sat beside Mireya’s bed.
Cullen remained near the window.
He had heard Tove use that word before.
Pretending.
Performing.
Attention-seeking.
Whenever Margaret worried about Mireya, Tove described her as overprotective.
Whenever Mireya resisted staying alone with Tove, Cullen had been told Margaret was encouraging dependence.
Cullen had believed enough of it to ask his mother to step back.
He remembered the conversation now.
“You need to let Tove become part of this family.”
Margaret had looked at him for a long time.
Then she said, “I hope you know what you're asking me to ignore.”
At the time, Cullen thought she meant jealousy.
Now he asked:
“What did you mean?”
Margaret kept her eyes on Mireya.
“Not here.”
“Mom.”
“Not in front of her.”
That stopped him.
Back home, Tove had already called twice.
Cullen ignored both calls.
Chase had called six times.
Cullen blocked the number.
When Mireya was finally discharged, Margaret waited until the child had fallen asleep in the car.
Then she placed her handbag between herself and Cullen.
“Tove wanted this.”
She opened it.
Inside was a small spiral notebook.
A pharmacy receipt.
Three printed emails.
And a sealed plastic pouch containing an empty inhaler canister.
Cullen looked at her.
“What is all this?”
May you like
Margaret answered quietly.
“Everything you told me I was imagining.”
