Marilyn

A week later

“Have you been home?” I ask Devan, seated across the table from her in the hospital cafeteria.

She nods. “Once or twice. It’s nice knowing Ricky is there and the house isn’t empty.”

Devan pushes the leaves of her salad around in the bottom of the plastic container. When she looks up through veiled lashes, I know what’s coming.

“What happened between you ...