A few days after coming home from the hospital in Hyannis, I was taking a shower when I realized that I finally had the answer to something I’d been wondering for years: What had Tim’s last minutes been like? The sky turned electric white, he shit his pants, and then he got sucked into a black pit, I thought. Once again, I’d survived something he hadn’t—another betrayal. Humans are pattern seekers, and now I had my pattern: When I live, someone else dies. Who was it going to be this time? My wife? My children? I leaned against the tile and cried until the shower ran cold.
