Then less movement.
Then poor appetite.
Then deficiencies.
Then more treatment.
Then more fatigue.
The system feeding itself.
Nathan looked at Mrs. Bennett.
“Why did you install all of this?”
Her eyes filled.
“The boys’ mother.”
The room stopped.
Nathan stared.
“What?”
Mrs. Bennett swallowed.
“After Catherine died, the rooms smelled like the hospital.”
I finally had the boys’ mother’s name.
Catherine.
Nathan’s face changed completely.
“You installed the system after Catherine died?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“You could not stand the smell.”
He went still.
She continued.
“The boys
were sleeping in the rooms she decorated.”
Her voice trembled.
“There were disinfectants. Medication. Oxygen equipment.”
Nathan looked toward the floor.
“I said I wanted it gone.”
“Yes.”
“I meant the equipment.”
“I thought you meant all of it.”
He closed his eyes.
There it was.
A misunderstanding born from grief.
Mrs. Bennett continued.
“I asked the air company for something to make the floor smell normal again.”
