Good Material

by Dolly Alderton

“I suspect you will never have a husband,” she said, looking at me intently from her bed. “Would you be upset if that happened?” I asked. “Your mother would be,” she said, then lowered her voice. “But I think you would be wise not to.” This surprised me as I had always thought that she and my grandfather had been very happy together. “Why do you say that?” I asked. Her hand, spotted in soft-brown splodges, the rails of her bones protruding, flapped gently at me to take it. I cupped it in both of mine. “You have a home that is yours,” she said. “And your own money. Don’t you?” “I have a bit of money, yes.” “And you have your education. And you have your career.” I nodded. “Then you have everything,” she said.