Ask Again, Yes

by Mary Beth Keane

Lena. She’d figured out where Francis had gone, and begged Kate to make him stay the night. “His vision,” she said. “He’ll never make it all the way home. The oncoming headlights leave him seeing halos. He admits that himself. I can’t believe he could be so reckless.” But when Kate hung up and looked at her father, who had followed her up the stairs, he seemed capable of driving all the way to the moon.

I have to tell you something and I want you to listen now, Peter. Listen to what I’m about to say. I won’t live like this for much longer.” “Meaning what?” “Meaning, the kids and I, we have options.” “And what does that mean?” But she wouldn’t say it, and he didn’t ask again, and suddenly a door sprang open that he never knew was there, and he saw her walking toward it, a child’s hand in each of hers.

“We repeat what we don’t repair,” Dr. Abbasi had said

Outside smelled like autumn, finally. His favorite season. The first sign of cooler weather always made him crave a stack of fresh notebooks, made him want to eat an apple and then run a 10K as fast as he could. Cross-country weather, those glorious perfect weeks between the oppressive heat of summer and the first bitter wind of winter.