Other people wanted to assure me that what I’d had was enough. “At least you have your son. At least you’ve had an amazing marriage.” I had been stripped down to the studs, and everything of worth I had accumulated was being appraised with a keen eye. I became certain that when I died some beautiful moron would tell my husband that “God needed an angel,” because God is sadistic like that. This is what I thought about sometimes. What people would say to the man with sandy hair and eyes I had loved since we were fifteen and thought we would never die.
