Ashes of Our Dead Marriage

Summary

On the day of my vasectomy, Valerie vanished.

The nurse stood by my bed, tapping a manicured fingernail against her clipboard. She needed my wife’s signature. Clinic policy—they wouldn't push the twilight anesthesia without the emergency contact present to sign the final release.

I called Valerie once. It rang out.

I called a second time. Sent straight to voicemail.

On the third try, she finally picked up. The background was a chaotic blur of sirens and street noise. She told me her grad student, Neil, had been in a traffic accident.