because you panic,” he said. “Mom has had bad nights before.”
I looked at the urn and felt something inside me settle.
Not break.
Not explode.
Settle.
For twenty years, I had mistaken endurance for loyalty.
I had believed that if I kept the house running, remembered every birthday, sat through every appointment, and softened every disappointment, our marriage would eventually become the thing I had been protecting.
Instead, I had protected Christopher from the consequences of being absent.
The night before, the emergency room had been washed in the
