There’s a knock at my door, only I’m not expecting anyone, least of all Josie. We haven’t really spoken, not since the last time she visited me in rehab. But that was before I left and before I quit talking to anyone, including you. I see her standing there, full of hope, and so I do the only thing that makes sense. I open the door wider and invite her in, even though I don’t want to. I figure it’s the least I can do, given that she saved my life.
“How’s the little one?” I ask. Not because I genuinely want to know, but because I can’t think of anything else to say.
“He’s great,” she says, and her face beams, and it’s just one more reminder in a sea of many that I’ll never know that look.
I watch as she plops down on my cheap futon, and I can’t help but feel slightly embarrassed that thi
