My Son Called at Midnight About the Blanket His Wife Threw Away

” I said. “She didn’t care to know. That’s different.”

He nodded.

Slowly.

“Yes.”

The Note

We sat with that for a minute.

Then Ethan reached for the folded paper again. “Should we read it?”

I thought of Robert in hospice, skin loose over bone, still stubborn enough to complain about hospital pudding.

I thought of the way he pressed my wrist when he made me continue reading …