a trip to times square

I’D COME TO a friend’s memorial service, but I didn’t want to be there. My husband, Corky, had been diagnosed with lung cancer, his surgery only a few days away. For months I’d been in denial about how sick he was, but now his looming operation made it all too real. We’d been married for more than 40 years. How could I go on without him? Who would understand?

I turned and looked behind me. There was a woman by the doorway. She seemed so familiar. Long brown hair. Attractive. About my age. Lucille? But it couldn’t be her. I hadn’t seen Lucille for years, but just looking at her made a flood of memories wash over me.

“Have you heard Johnnie Ray’s latest song?” I remembered myself whispering