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Control.
Maya got worse by the day.
She stopped answering her friends’ calls.
She quit asking to go to soccer practice.
Her camera sat on the dresser with dust gathering on the strap.
One morning, I found her sitting on the bathroom floor with her forehead against the cabinet.
She said she had just gotten dizzy.
She said it like she was apologizing.
That broke something in me.
Children should not apologize for being sick.
They should not have to measure their pain against a parent’s mood.
By Wednesday night, I had already started looking up clinics on my phone with the screen dimmed under the blanket.
I checked our insurance card in Robert’s wallet while he was in the shower.
I hated that I had to do it like that.
I hated that protecting my daughter felt like sneaking around.
But fear has a way of making you practical fast.