Then he whispered:
“That’s why.”
I frowned.
“That’s why what?”
But his eyes had already closed.
I thought we would continue the conversation later.
We never did.
The day before he died, Russell asked for the blue blanket from our bedroom.
I brought it to the hospital.
Marlene was standing by the sink arranging flowers.
She was throwing away unopened lilies.
For one brief second, she looked less angry than exhausted.
Her eyes were swollen.
Her shoulders had collapsed inward.
I almost spoke to her.
Then she noticed me.
The wall returned.
Russell slept most of the afternoon.
I sat beside him counting his breaths.
Years earlier, I had sat on my bed counting dollar bills.
Now I would have traded every dollar I might ever have for one more month.
He woke once.
His eyes found mine.
Without speaking, he reached for my wrist.
His fingers rested there, weak but deliberate.
