“Stop being dramatic, Maya. The cruise doesn’t dock until Tuesday.”
Mason added:
“You’re a doctor, Maya. Deal with it. That’s what you’re there for.”
Victor was awake.
He saw the messages.
I watched something disappear from his face.
The last hope that perhaps they would still come back.
I pressed the video-call button.
Mom answered from the sunlit deck of the cruise ship.
Music pounded in the background.
People were drinking and dancing around her.
“What do you want now, Maya?” she shouted over the noise.
“I want you to come home,” I said evenly. “Victor is dying.”
Her expression hardly changed.
“Maya, we paid thousands of dollars for this vacation! We are not cutting it short because he decided to take a turn for the worse right now.”
Mason suddenly appeared behind her, holding a margarita and laughing.
“Tell him to hold on until Tuesday!”
