After the second visit, she stared out the window for a long time.
“Do you know the worst part of getting old?” she said finally. “People start talking about you like you’ve already left the room.”
Part 2: “Everyone Else Will”
In March, I told her how I felt.
She laughed at first. Then she saw my face and stopped.
“James. I’m old, and I’m dying. You do understand that?”
“I know.”
“And you’re twenty-two.”
“I know that too.”
In April, I got down on one knee beside her chair and held out a gummy ring.
She burst out laughing and slid it onto her finger. Then her expression changed, and she looked at me hard.
Continue on the next page:
