“When?”
“Yesterday.”
“You didn’t tell me.”
“I’m telling you.”
“What did they say?”
“Rehabilitation apartment. My sister’s place. Assisted place.”
Each option struck me differently.
I kept my voice even.
“Those are reasonable.”
“And your place.”
I looked at him.
He opened his eye.
“The apartment over the yard.”
“Yes.”
“They said it’s my legal address.”
“It is.”
“That my things are there.”
“Yes.”
“And Marlowe.”
“Yes.”
His toes moved through the grass.
“They said I could choose.”
“You can.”
“What do you want?”
The honest answer was too large.
“I want you safe.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
I looked toward the hospital windows.
“I want you home.”
“With you.”
