“Say it,” I told him.
He looked up.
“You hate me.”
“No.”
“You should.”
“No.”
“You lost your wife because of me.”
The sentence entered the room and stayed there.
I set down my cup.
“Your mother died of cancer.”
“She died while you were taking care of everything. I was supposed to help. Instead, I was fighting with her about Lauren’s spending.”
“She never blamed you.”
“She should have.”
“She didn’t.”
“She asked for you the night before she died.”
“I know.”
Michael’s face tightened.
“I was at the hospital.”
“You were.”
“I left when Lauren called. She said the children had a fever.”
“They didn’t.”
“I know.”
“You did not cause your mother’s death.”
“I missed her last clear conversation.”
“You missed one conversation. You did not abandon her.”
He stared at the table.
“What did she say?”
I could still hear my wife’s voice from that night, thin but steady.
“She asked whether you had eaten.”
Michael covered his mouth.
