I told her about Thomas and the slow years after his death.

I told her about Anna, how her laughter filled a room, how she used to leave notes in my lunch bag even after I was older than the other women at work.

Evelyn listened without interrupting.

When I mentioned the accident, her voice broke.

“I would have liked to know her.”

“She would have liked you.”

I did not mention our leaking roof or the prescriptions.

I wasn’t ashamed of our life.