We didn’t need to.
We were both living inside the consequences of it, and that was enough.
One afternoon she was washing up at the sink and I was feeding Josephine on the sofa, and she said, without turning around:
“He talked about you, you know.
All the time.
Even at the end.
He said you were the best decision he ever made.”
I looked at the back of her head.
“He made some bad decisions,” I said.
“Yes.” She kept washing.
“He did.
But not that one.”
I didn’t answer.
But I held Josephine a little closer, and I didn’t argue.
—
I called Diane on a Thursday afternoon in January.
“How’s the recovery?” I asked.
“Good.
Back at work full-time now.
Daniel started a new term and he’s obsessed with dinosaurs, so that’s the current situation.”
“Josephine is obsessed with the ceiling fan.”
