But I understood loneliness.
I understood what it meant to reach the end of another ordinary day and wonder whether anyone would notice if you weren’t there tomorrow.
“Would you let me think about it?” I asked.
She nodded.
“Of course.”
Then she added, “But don’t take too long. I’m not getting any younger.”
I laughed despite myself.
That evening, I called my sister, Rebecca.
She listened in silence until I finished explaining.
Then she said, “You’ve finally lost your mind.”
“Thank you for your support.”
“Daniel, she’s seventy!”
“I am aware.”
“And dying!”
“I am also aware of that.”
“Then what happens afterward?”
I stared at the kitchen wall.
“Afterward, she’ll be gone.”
Rebecca fell silent.
When she spoke again, her voice was softer.
“Do you love her?”
“Not in the way you’re thinking.”
“Then why would you marry her?”
I remembered Eleanor’s trembling voice.
Because, for once in my life, I wasn’t the woman someone left behind.
