beside the bed.
He hadn’t seriously injured himself.
He had simply tried to stand, gotten confused, and his legs had failed him.
But the expression on his face destroyed me.
Embarrassment.
He was ashamed of needing help.
And worse, he was pretending not to be upset because he was trying to protect me.
I helped him back into bed.
Then I went into the bathroom.
Locked the door.
And cried.
Not quietly.
Not gracefully.
I pressed a towel over my mouth so David wouldn’t hear me and cried for twenty
