Sophie nodded once.
But I saw what the answer cost her.
After the doctors left, Linda went to call Sophie’s father. I remained in the chair, unsure whether to speak.
Sophie stared at the blanket.
“I thought I had already made peace with that dream changing,” she said.
I knew which dream she meant.
The house.
The children.
The life we had rehearsed in whispers before grief made us afraid to want anything.
“I don’t think peace happens all at once,” I said.
She looked at me, surprised.
“What?”
“I think sometimes you make peace with something for one day. Then you have to do it again the next day.”
Her eyes softened.
“That sounds like something a therapist would say.”
“I’ve been seeing one.”
She blinked.
“You have?”
I nodded.
“After the divorce. Mark kept pushing me. I went once to prove it wouldn’t help.”
