The door stopped halfway.
I looked at Claire again.
Her black dress was wrinkled. Her eyes were swollen, and her wedding ring hung from a chain around her neck.
“What did you say?”
Claire lifted the tie.
“He wanted to make sure you received what you deserved.”
Her black dress was wrinkled.
My knees weakened.
I caught the edge of the door.
***
Four months earlier, Robert and I had been standing in the kitchen when he ended our 39-year marriage.
That morning, a doctor told us his cancer had spread.
It was stage four.
The words followed us home and sat between us.
A doctor told us his cancer had spread.
***
I lined up his new pill bottles beside the sink and wrote each dosage on a notepad, as I had handled countless small things throughout our marriage.
“Two after breakfast,” I said. “This one at noon. The doctor said you can’t take the last one on an empty stomach.”
Robert stared at the bottles.
“Did you hear me?”
“I heard you.”
“Two after breakfast.”
I clicked the final tablet into the organizer and reached for his hand.
He pulled away.
“We’ll get through this, my love,” I said.
“There’s no getting through it.”
“Then we’ll face it, Robert.”
