“Cancer.”
His voice was about to break when he spoke that word.
He had worked for him for six years, but had never heard of his family.
“She’s been sick for almost two years,” she continued. “The doctors thought I had more time. Last week we were told that we probably didn’t anymore.”
I looked at the dress again.
“I still don’t understand what this has to do with me.”
She looked down.
“My mother has wanted only one thing for years: to see me feel head.”
“That doesn’t explain this yet.”
“It gets worse.”
He let out a bitter laugh.
“Three months ago, when I was going through another round of treatment, he asked me if there was anyone in my life.”
I waited.
“I said yes.”
I raised my eyebrows.
“Did you lie to your dying mother?” Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I was afraid. I kept saying I was going to die without knowing if I had anyone. I wanted to give something to hold on to.”
I crossed my arms.
“So a woman was invented?”
He hesitated.
Then he looked straight at me.
“I used your name.”
I stared at him.
“What did he do?”
“I never told him we were really together. At first I just told him that there was someone at work for whom I felt something.”
I felt a knot in my stomach.
“Me?”
He nodded.
“Then he started asking questions. And every time I tried to change the subject, I would smile and say your name.”
“This is crazy.”
“I know.”
“And now you want me to wear that dress?”
“Not because I wait for you to marry me.”
He spoke quickly.
“She thinks we are engaged. It got worse tonight. Your doctor came in an hour ago. He asked me if I could meet you before...”
He stopped.
Before he died.
I didn't need to say it.
I looked away.
For a moment, the room was silent.
Then I pointed the ring.
“What about that?”
