one Sunday, about four months after the funeral, Ray showed up at the door with a baseball glove under his arm. A new one. Caleb’s size.
“Thought he might be getting too big for the old one,” he said.
I stood in the doorway and didn’t let him in.
“Ray,” I said. “I need you to stop coming.”
He blinked. “Jen…”
“I can’t do it anymore. Every time I see you in that uniform, I…” My voice broke. “I just can’t. I need it to be over. Please. I need
There’s more to discover. Continue to the next page for the rest of this article.
