Chapter 2: What the Video Actually Said
Two days later, Charlotte came over to visit. I found her standing in Adeline’s nursery, carefully refolding a pink blanket. “Charlotte.” “Did they take everything from him?” I stopped short in the doorway. “What?” “From Miles.” “They’ll only actually use whatever can genuinely be donated.” She gripped the blanket tight. “And you’re genuinely fine with that arrangement?” “He wanted it done this particular way.” “I asked about you, specifically.” “I’m genuinely not fine, Charlotte.” “You’re acting entirely fine, though.” “What would you actually prefer instead?”
She looked at me steadily. “His heart. His skin. His eyes. All of those particular things going out to complete strangers.” “They don’t actually transplant someone’s whole eyes, Charlotte.” “You genuinely know what I actually mean.” “Corneal tissue specifically can be donated.” She laughed, bitter and sharp. “All of those things going to strangers, regardless of the particular medical terminology.” “Does the nicer phrasing genuinely make it easier for you?” “No, it genuinely doesn’t.” Her mouth trembled hard. “How am I supposed to feel okay, knowing something that once belonged to my own son is walking around inside strangers somewhere?” “Because Miles was genuinely okay with it himself.” “You agreed to all of this.” “Yes. That doesn’t mean any of it was actually easy for me, Charlotte.”
She looked down at my stomach. “You still get to keep part of him, at least.” My hand moved instinctively over Adeline without thinking. “Don’t,” I said sharply. “Don’t what, exactly?” “Don’t put her in the middle of this.” “You still get part of him,” she repeated. Charlotte walked out without ever actually answering me.
At Miles’s memorial, she went considerably further still. An uncle hugged me near the flower arrangements. “Miles was genuinely helping people, right up until the very end.” His aunt nodded along in agreement. “You must be genuinely proud.” Everyone around us went quiet at that. Charlotte had appeared right behind us by then. “She doesn’t get to be proud of this,” she said sharply.
“Miles could barely walk across an entire room,” she continued loudly. “But somehow we’re all supposed to genuinely believe he calmly chose all of this himself?” “He genuinely did choose it.” “You agreed to it, though.” “Yes, Charlotte. I gave my own husband his final dying wish.” Her eyes filled with sudden tears. “At least you’re genuinely honest about something, finally.”
I could have easily ended that whole argument right there. Instead, I simply said, “We’re not doing this here, Charlotte.” “Because you genuinely can’t handle it?” “Because we’re actually here for Miles right now.” I walked away entirely.
I genuinely thought staying silent was some kind of kindness. By that same evening, it had already turned into something else entirely instead.
Miles’s own aunt stopped me near the front door later. “Was he taking anything that might have affected his judgment?” “What?” “Charlotte said maybe he wasn’t genuinely thinking clearly at the end.” “Miles knew exactly what he actually wanted.” “I’m only simply asking.” “No. You’re actually asking whether I pushed my own dying husband into something he genuinely didn’t want himself.” She looked away from me. “I’m only asking, that’s all.”
That night, I went straight to Adeline’s own nursery. I opened my laptop. Then I plugged in the flash drive. Miles appeared on the screen. He looked considerably thinner than I remembered him looking. “If you’re watching this purely because you miss me, turn it off right now.”
I covered my own mouth with one hand. “You genuinely don’t get to boss me around anymore, Miles.” He shifted slightly in his chair on screen. “I’m being genuinely serious, Sal.” “Mom asked me not to donate,” he continued on the recording. “She asked more than once, actually. Then she asked whether the whole decision was really mine, or genuinely yours instead.”
My stomach dropped hard. “I told her it was entirely mine,” he said, rubbing both hands slowly over his own face on screen. “She genuinely can’t stand the idea that complete strangers might get something from me, once I’m actually gone.” He paused a beat. “I understand exactly why, honestly. But grief doesn’t ever get to turn you into the actual villain of this story.”
My breath caught hard in my throat. “Don’t protect me by simply letting her hurt you instead. And don’t let Adeline ever grow up thinking her own father was too weak to make his own genuine choices.”
I paused the video right there. “You knew,” I said out loud, standing up. “You knew she might genuinely do this, and you never once told me.” I pressed both hands flat against my own stomach. “You knew.” “I was your wife, Miles. You genuinely didn’t have to protect me from absolutely everything.” That was the first time I’d actually been angry with him, since the day he died. It felt genuinely awful. It also felt entirely honest, at the exact same time.
