He reached for my hand.
“That’s why I trust you.”
Life with Richard wasn’t glamorous in the way people imagined.
Yes, there was a huge house.
Yes, there were beautiful cars.
Yes, there were vacations and restaurants where I had once been afraid to look at the menu prices.
But most of our happiest moments were ordinary.
He liked toast slightly burnt.
I liked mine barely toasted.
He complained that I put too much sugar in my coffee.
I complained that he stole the blankets.
He read newspapers in the morning while I sat across from him.
Sometimes we didn’t speak for an hour.
We didn’t need to.
And slowly, something happened that frightened me.
I stopped thinking about the money.
I started thinking about Richard.
I worried when he had headaches.
I noticed when he became quieter.
I learned which memories made him smile and which ones made him stare through a window for several minutes without saying anything.
