Anything.
Everything.
I couldn’t accept that the man who had promised me forever might not get it.
One night, Tom caught me crying in the kitchen.
“You’re doing it again,” he said.
“Doing what?”
“Looking for a way to save me.”
I wiped my face.
“Because there has to be one.”
He walked toward me slowly.
“Nora.”
“No.”
“I need you to listen.”
“I don’t want to.”
He smiled sadly.
“You always were stubborn.”
“And you’re not?”
He laughed.
Then he pulled me into his arms.
“If I don’t get better,” he whispered, “don’t let Emily remember me as someone who was sick.”
I shook my head.
“You’re going to tell her yourself.”
He kissed my forehead.
“I hope I do.”
A year after his diagnosis, Tom’s body finally began to lose the fight.
I sat beside his bed.
Emily was sleeping at my mother’s friend’s house.
Tom’s breathing had become shallow.
He looked at me.
“Nora.”
“I’m here.”
“Take care of her.”
“I will.”
“And take care of yourself too.”
“I will.”
He smiled.
That was the last smile I ever saw.
A few minutes later, he was gone.
After the funeral, I discovered that grief wasn’t the hardest part.
Survival was.
The medical bills kept coming.
The rent kept coming.
The electricity bill didn’t care that my husband had died.
Neither did the bank.
I sold what little I could.
I cut every expense possible.
I took extra shifts.
I learned to eat less so Emily could eat normally.
Sometimes, after putting her to bed, I’d sit at the kitchen table surrounded by envelopes and calculate how long we could survive.
Then the landlord called.
“You’ve fallen behind.”
“I know.”
“When can you pay?”
“I’ll have it.”
“When?”
I didn’t have an answer.
He gave me thirty days.
Thirty days to find enough money to catch up.
Thirty days before my daughter and I could be homeless.
That’s when I saw the housekeeping advertisement.
It was for a wealthy man named Richard.
The estate was enormous.
The salary was more than I had ever earned.
I almost didn’t call.
Then I looked at Emily sleeping on the couch.
I picked up the phone.
Richard was waiting for me in his study when I arrived.
He was seventy-two.
Tall.
