Instead, I felt grief.
Because some part of Daniel’s concern had been justified.
My memory was changing.
My independence needed adaptation.
I could win the hearing and still lose something.
That evening Vanessa found me sitting beside the living-room window.
“You look disappointed for a man who just received good news.”
“I wanted the doctor to say nothing was wrong.”
“She didn’t.”
“No.”
Vanessa sat on the sofa nearby.
“Arthur, nothing being wrong has never been a requirement for having a life.”
I looked at her.
“You rehearsed that.”
“No.”
“You did.”
“Maybe in the elevator.”
I laughed.
It was the first real laugh I had managed all week.
The next morning, Maria Reyes arrived with another folder.
“Sophie found this in the backpack lining.”
Rachel frowned.
“Lining?”
Maria smiled.
“Elena sewed pockets into everything.”
Inside was a small black notebook.
Elena’s handwriting filled the pages.
Dates.
