Wanted to know whether the seat belt had bothered her incision.
Everything seemed normal.
Until we entered their bedroom.
Mom stopped in the doorway.
The large mirror above the dresser was gone.
So was the full-length mirror beside the closet.
Even the small vanity mirror she had owned since her twenties had disappeared.
“Brad?”
Dad came in behind us.
Mom gave a confused little laugh.
“What did you do?”
Dad hesitated.
“You probably shouldn’t look yet.”
“The surgeon already warned me there would be swelling.”
He shook his head.
“It isn’t the swelling.”
Something about his voice made me turn toward him.
He looked terrified.
Mom’s smile vanished.
“What aren’t you telling me?”
Dad glanced at me.
Then back at her.
“Your surgeon called while you were asleep.”
My stomach tightened.
“Why would he call you?” I asked.
“Your mother authorized the office to discuss her care with me.”
Mom stared at him.
“What did he say?”
Instead of answering immediately, Dad walked to the closet.
He reached onto the top shelf and pulled down an old shoebox.
The second Mom saw it, her expression changed.
“Where did you get that?”
Dad opened the box.
Then removed an old photograph.
