My supervisor, Denise, knew about the funeral.

When I told her I needed to make decisions about the house and my future, she suggested that I take a proper leave instead of coming back exhausted.

“You have covered enough shifts for everyone,” she said.

“Maybe it’s time to cover one for yourself.”

I drove to the studio and found a handwritten schedule Frank had slipped under the door.

It listed the time he’d be free to show me the soundboard, with a note: Only if you want.