“I’m not angry at you.
I want to be clear about that.
Whatever happened between you and Mark — that’s between you and him.
I’m calling because he asked me to make sure Daniel wasn’t alone, and I didn’t know how to do that without talking to you first.”
When Diane spoke again, her voice had changed.
Something in it had loosened.
“He told you to call me.”
“He wrote it in the letter.
He said you were sick.”
“I had surgery last month.
I’m recovering.
It’s — I’ll be okay.
It’s just been a hard few weeks.”
“Do you have people around you?”
“My neighbor has been helping with Daniel.
And my friend Karen.
We’re managing.”
“Okay.” I exhaled slowly.
“I’m glad.”
“Can I ask you something?” Diane said.
“Yes.”
“Did you know?
Before the letter?”
“No.”
“I’m sorry.” And she sounded it — genuinely, without qualification.
