During our video calls, Lucy always said, “I’m fine, my love. Don’t worry.”
Then, a few months ago, he stopped turning on the camera. Bad internet connection, he said. An old phone. I was tired.
Now I understood why.
Lucy tried to stand up, but her legs faltered. Brianna came out in a new dress and a glass of wine in her hand.
“Hurry up. We still need the dishes.”
“I feel dizzy,” Lucy whispered. I haven’t eaten since yesterday.
Brianna laughed. “With everything you stole, you should be able to feast on it.”
My whole being wanted to go through that door.
But the years surrounded by broken machines had taught me something: when something starts to fail, listen before touching it. The noise tells you where the problem started.
So I heard.
Lucy begged me to let her call me. Theresa entered the backyard with the golden hummingbird necklace she had given Lucy for our fifth anniversary.
“He has a right to know that I’m sick,” Lucy said.
“You’re not going to worry,” Theresa replied. He’s working to get us through, not to carry the weight of your drama.
Lucy said the doctor wanted me to continue the treatment.
Teresa fired the doctors and then uttered a phrase that stirred my stomach.
“My son sends the money to my account. That means I decide how it is used.”
Lucy pointed to the new SUV, Brianna’s manicure hall and remodeled house. Then he said he had been sleeping in the shed.
“I just want to finish my treatment,” he whispered.
Teresa crossed her arms. “You should have thought about it before you got sick.
I pushed the door to open it.
My suitcase fell to the ground.
Brianna dropped her glass. Theresa took her hand to her chest. Lucy looked at me like I was a ghost.
“Nathan…”
I crossed the yard and knelt next to my wife. I felt it terribly light in my arms and smelled slightly of bleach, medicine and wet clothes.
“I’m back, honey.”
