He Asked Me to Stop Talking About My Cancer

Late fifties. Reading glasses on a chain. No patience for nonsense.

“Ma’am, are you comfortable with him being here?” she asked me.

Not him.

Not “your husband.”

Him.

Marcus flinched.

I said, “No.”

Brenda gave one quick nod like she’d expected that answer from the minute she saw us, then turned to him.

“You need to step out.”

Marcus looked embarrassed first,continue reading …