I’d caught him in the middle of something.
In the background, Eleanor’s voice was crisp as a starched collar. « David, tell her about the untidy guest room. Are you listening to me? »
My husband was 41 years old, going on 14. He’d clearly panicked and called his mother.
« Okay, » I said carefully. « That’s great. Tell her thank you. »
« Sure. Rest up. »
He hung up before I could say I loved him.
« Are you listening to me? »
***
The nurse came in with my discharge paperwork and a wheelchair.
She was cheerful in a way that felt medically prescribed.
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