“Nine days ago,” I said, “this number was already six feet under.”

Charles set his fork down.

“You can’t keep throwing that at me in a public room.”

“You brought me to the public room.”

He explained it three ways.

Nothing gets filed, I visit every day, and when she’s out of the woods, I go back to my unit.

“Who makes her medical decisions while I’m visiting every day?”

“I do.