It wasn’t just worry. He was afraid.
“Mom, we have to go to the hospital,” I said. We can’t waste time here.
It’s like my words woke her up. He closed the bag, got his car keys and asked if I could drive. I agreed, although my hands were shaking so much that I was barely able to put the key in the contact.
On the way, Mum spoke almost without stopping. He told me that my father had never listened to the recommendations of the doctors, that he sometimes hid his unused pills and that he refused to go to the control when he felt better. I listened to her, but my thoughts were somewhere else. Why would my dad want me to hide an envelope from him? And, especially, why did she keep it in the pocket of a pair of pants that my mother had just packed?
