parking lot on the phone with me. And I thought, Oh. There it is. There’s someday.“
I didn’t say yes that day.
I want to be honest about that. I sat at that table and cried and said I can’t, I can’t, it’s too much
for probably half an hour. Mrs. Whitaker let me. She just sat there and waited, the way she waited on that bathroom floor for Thursday to come.
When I was finally quiet, she said one more thing.
“Mrs. Ashford told my mother something else. My mother wrote it down, and I kept it. It’s in my wallet.” She reached into her purse. She took out an old leather wallet, and from behind her driver’s license, she pulled out a tiny folded piece of paper, yellowed and soft, like old cloth.
She unfolded it and handed it to me.
