Not curious.
She looked like she recognized it.
For several seconds, Patricia simply stared.
Then she seemed to collect herself.
She gently pulled Mom’s sleeve back down over the tattoo.
“I’ll be back in a moment,” she said.
Her voice sounded controlled, but tense.
“I need to check something.”
Then she left.
Mom and I looked at each other.
“That was strange,” I said.
“Yes.”
Mom’s voice sounded calm.
Her hands did not.
She had folded them tightly in her lap.
“Do you know what that was about?”
Mom looked down at her covered wrist.
“I’m sure it’s nothing.”
But I knew my mother.
She didn’t believe it was nothing.
Something about her expression told me she had been afraid of this moment for a very long time.
Five minutes passed.
Patricia didn’t return.
Then I noticed two hospital security officers standing outside the room.
