33

I walked most of the way back home. I was tired from both the run and the emotions spent at the cemetery, but it was that good kind of fatigue that sets in after physical exertion. I knew I would feel better after a shower and some breakfast.

When I arrived at the house, Mary Alice’s station wagon was gone. She’d left a note on the kitchen table. Went to church with Davis. Love you.

I felt the familiar pangs of remorse as I poured myself a glass of water and thought of my wife and daughter at church without me there. Before Graham’s death, we had been regular attendees, but after burying our son, I had not had it in me to go back. Mary Alice and Davis had resumed going a few weeks after the funeral, but I had always found an excuse not to join them. Work, sickness, whatever. Finally, my wife had stopped asking me to come.

I sighed and drank the water in one long swig. I tried not to dwell on the guilt. Instead, I forced my legs to move toward the bathroom, where I started the shower running. As the hot water sprayed over my face and chest, I figured there was only one logical thing for me to do.