I woke from anesthesia to a nurse who would not look at me.
My three children had been at the hospital during my heart surgery, but they had left nearly two hours before I opened my eyes.
“Why did they go?” I asked.
The nurse hesitated.
“They said parking was getting expensive.”
Twenty-five dollars.
Nathaniel had promised to leave his accounting office early. Rowena had said she would bring flowers. Foster planned to come after his sales calls.
The monitor beside me quickened as I stared toward the window and tried not to cry.
Then a man appeared in the doorway.
Dark suit. Wire-rimmed glasses.
He looked directly at me.
“Are you Mrs. Brennan?”
“Yes.”
“My name is Theodore Brennan,” he said. “You probably don’t remember me.”
He reached into his coat and removed a small, faded yellow card.
“You bought my lunch every day when I was in third grade.”
Then the nurse suddenly went pale.
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