I’m staring at your hands. You’re using them to clarify medical words; to make shapes; to draw diagrams to help me understand what my brain can’t make sense of: There’s a hole in my son’s heart. You say it’s significant. Life threatening if left untreated. And I never suspected. My boy wriggles on my lap and I place my palm on his chest, I feel the pulsing rhythm of beats. Unable to bear the thought that one day this tattoo might stop, I look again at your hands, then into your eyes. Do it, I say. Fix his heart. Please.
Emma McEvoy writes short stories and flash fiction. Originally from Ireland, she now lives in Yorkshire with her husband, two teenage children, and naughty beagle. Find Emma on Instagram @emmajanemcevoy.