No More Booties at the Door

Summary

The day my mother arrived in Boston to seek treatment for the sudden, terrifying deafness in her left ear, I brought her straight back to our apartment.

But the very first thing my husband said to her was when she was on the phone.

"Keep it down, would you?"

Mom froze. She gave him a timid, apologetic look, her weathered face forcing a tight, fragile smile. Her hand trembled as she hung up the call.

"I’m so sorry, Zachary. I’ll go outside to finish."

She hunched her shoulders, her back curved under the weight of her coat.