A calendar on the refrigerator was crowded with medical appointments.
We seated her at the table.
Anna brought water while I stood awkwardly near the doorway.
Barbara looked at me, and I couldn’t help but blurt out.
“I opened one of the bags.”
A flash of anger passed over her face before she resumed her normal look.
“No, I don’t think you did know. You have no business going through my private items.”
Barbara studied me for a moment, then looked at Anna.
“Thank you for helping me in.”
Anna sat beside her. “Are you sick?”
Barbara touched the edge of her scarf.
“Stage-four ovarian cancer. The doctors think I have one or two months.”
I sat down without meaning to.
“My son is coming home Saturday,” she continued. “David. He has not been inside this house since he left.”
“We spoke to Patterson,” I said. “We had no business prying, but we were simply worried. We are sorry about what happened to your daughter.”
Barbara nodded, looking exhausted and holding back tears.
“The trash bag contains her things, but not all of them are trash. The black bags with green tags go to a charity for teenage girls. Clothes, books, school supplies. The unlabelled trash bags are for damaged things. I keep some personal things.”
“Duplicates. I had boxes of them. Some were in my room, others in Emily’s, and others in her brother’s room.”
“I am not throwing my daughter’s valuables into a landfill.”
Shame moved through me so sharply I almost could not breathe.
“Why clear the room now?” Anna asked gently.
“Because David is coming to say goodbye to me.”
Barbara wrapped both hands around the glass.
