Ethan came with us.
He spent most of the trip pretending he would rather be anywhere else.
Mary tried on three dresses.
Then found the red one.
She came out of the fitting room—
and smiled.
Not the weak smile she gave nurses.
Not the brave smile she gave worried relatives.
Her real smile.
She turned once in front of the mirror.
“This one.”
Ethan laughed.
“You look like a fire alarm.”
Mary threw the price tag at him.
“You have no taste.”
We bought it.
ON THE WAY BACK TO WILLOWCREST MEDICAL CENTER, MARY ASKED ME TO STOP
There was a small garden beside the entrance.
Yellow daisies grew near the path.
Mary walked over.
Bent down.
Picked one.
“You probably aren’t supposed to do that.”
She grinned.
“Call security.”
Later, lying in her hospital bed—
she tucked the flower inside a book.
I had forgotten about it.
