Seven
THE SOUNDS OF PANS clattering and dishes clinking awakens me around 6 a.m. on Saturday. I need to get up anyway, since I’m saying 8 a.m. Mass, and I’d like to have time for a little something before.
I shower and dress before going downstairs, thinking about the big day ahead of me—one I’m looking forward to with a mixture of fear and excitement. Excitement over where Helen and I will be going, fear over how we’re getting there.
My life is just one adventure after another, you know?
In the kitchen, I find Anna sitting at the table, nursing a cup of coffee, a copy of the weekly print edition of the Myerton Gazette spread in front of her.
“Good morning,” I say as I walk to the counter to pour myself a cup of coffee—reminding myself that I’m only allowed one.
“Morning, Tom,” she s
