Then I heard a faint voice.
“Sam?”
When she finally opened the door, I barely recognized her.
Her robe hung loosely over her shoulders. Her face had lost its color, and even standing seemed exhausting.
She tried to smile.
“I suppose I look awful.”
“You look sick.”
“That’s not very diplomatic.”
I helped her to the sofa.
The next several days disappeared into medical appointments, medication schedules, grocery trips, and phone calls.
Susan was gravely ill, and her strength was disappearing quickly.
She had relatives, but none lived nearby.
“Can someone come stay with you?” I asked.
Susan stared through the window.
“They’re busy.”
“You can’t manage this alone.”
“I’m not alone.”
Her eyes shifted toward me.
It took me a moment to understand.
I worked from home.
I had a spare bedroom.
And every time I saw Susan sitting in that empty house, I heard my mother telling me she was fine.
