Marie set up a schedule for her son. We went over therapy sessions and medication times. I wrote the whole week out on a chart for Ms. Marie and Henri to see and posted it on the wall by his bed. “What did he…pay you…to come here?” Henri asked me later that day after his therapy session. He was lying tucked into his hospital bed, watching me. “Who?” I inquired while I folded some sheets for his bed. “My brother.” “He didn’t pay me.” I put the sheet down and faced Henri. “I told you, I wanted to come.” “For…me?” I nodded my head. “Yes.” “Liar.” He tried to smirk at me, but it appeared more like a grimace. “No, I’m not lying. I came to help you and your mother.” “And Jean Marc.” He looked out the window next to his bed. “He has…always wanted…you.” “Jean Marc loves me like a sister, Henri. You once said I’ve always been like a sister to the two of you.” “Not…to Jean Marc. I could always…tell. So could…your uncle.” I pulled back the tight blankets Ms.
