That evening, leaving the office a touch early, Marie went to the hospital where the once glamorous Rose lay abed. She seemed Marie’s age or older now.
Gasping for air, struggling between words, Rose tried to explain that she hadn’t met Charley until he had left Marie.
Maybe she was going for absolution or forgiveness. Marie was long past caring. If Charley had left her to join a monastery it could not alter the how he left; without explanation or provocation.
Marie looked at Rose, lying there, connected to machines, and regardless what she may have felt or thought, she nodded, made a consolatory smile, gripped Rose’s hand.
After a few minutes, she rose and went out of the room.
She passed Charley. He was sitting in the hall, crying like an infant. She passed him without pause. He was not her husband, he was nothing to her. Not any more.