Chapter 6: Not Yet

Later, sitting alone in my car, I watched an elderly couple cross the parking lot.

The husband gently held his wife’s elbow as they stepped over the curb.

It was such a small gesture.

Small enough that nobody else noticed.

But I did.

I looked away before bitterness could settle too deeply.

Then I pulled Walter’s bank card from my purse.

Recently, I had started carrying it with me. Not using it. Not even planning to. Just carrying it, the way some people carry a photograph of someone they have not forgiven.

“Not yet,” I whispered before slipping it away again.

But eventually, I ran out of time.

Insurance would cover part of the operation.

Not all of it.

There would be deductibles, medications, recovery costs, rides, meals, follow-ups, and expenses that always appear after people tell you not to worry.

So one Thursday morning, I dressed in my best church clothes and took the bus to the bank.

My hands shook the entire ride.

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