“Would you get me some coffee, Cynthia?”
“Yes.”
***
A few days later, Conor came into the kitchen on his crutches.
“I have another appointment on Thursday. Will you come?”
Every instinct in me wanted to start planning.
Conor came into the kitchen on his crutches.
Instead, I asked, “Do you want your wife there, or someone to take notes?”
“My wife.”
So I went.
At the appointment, questions crowded my mouth before Conor finished his first one.
I stopped myself.
He glanced at me. “You had something to ask.”
“Do you want your wife there?”
“I do. But you go first.”
He asked what he needed to know. I listened.
When he finished, he looked at me.
“Anything?”
“One thing.”
I asked it and left it there.
“Anything?”
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