![]() ![]() Each one m ust go alone down the dark valley. What matters is to hold onto what's left. What's important, I suppose, is for me to keep remembering. Since Queenie's last attack, her eyes barely move when I wheel into her room, and she doesn't seem to recognize my name. Wyle, and they might as well be a thousand miles apart, instead of a fifty-foot corridor. No need to fuss with cooking or shovel our own snow anymore we'll get to talk all day if we want.īut there's more than one kind of distance that can come between people. She collapsed just before our final exhibition, and I fell sick a week later, and when we were both moved to this Home just north of Toronto, I thought, Well, at least we'll be together. I always thought it would be alright so long as we ended up in the same place. Queenie's not even 80.1 ought to have gone first. The nurses start to worry if you get the numbers wrong. I try to keep a grip on the numbers myself. What a pass we've come to, if I need to introduce myself! Like that line in the Bible. It's Florence." Which sounded absurd, as I've never had to tell her who I am before, she always knew. She was lying there like a whale ready for the axe. That's what they call her: Miss Loring, or sometimes Frances. ![]() Lightly, as if it doesn't matter either way. "Has Miss Loring by any chance asked for me?" I say. I check with her nurses, though it's a little humiliating. ![]()
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