She wiped them quickly, almost angrily.
“I hate this.”
“What part?”
“Being the woman everyone feels sorry for.”
“You’re not a woman to feel sorry for.”
She raised an eyebrow through her tears.
“That sounded better in your head, didn’t it?”
“Much better.”
Despite everything, she laughed.
I smiled.
Then her expression grew serious again.
“Do you know what hurts most?”
“What?”
“I spent twenty-two years making sure everybody else had what they needed. Daniel had a good childhood. Michael had a comfortable home to return to. My in-laws had someone to call when they were sick. I remembered birthdays, anniversaries, appointments, school events, every little thing that kept our lives moving.” She stared at the city.
“And somewhere along the way, I stopped asking myself whether I was happy.”
I thought about the woman I had known for a decade.
Karen had always been generous, composed, and capable. She could organize a family dinner for twenty people while answering work calls and helping Daniel solve a problem he had created himself.
