A Silver Photo Frame on Our Porch Ended My Fifteen Year Blind Spot
She turned to look at me, her face pale in the hallway light.
“You really want me to go?” she asked.
“Yes,” I said. “I have already blocked out the calendar for the entire week.”
“And the house?” she asked. “The kids?”
“The operational logistics are my responsibility now,” I said. “I have established a routine that will allow you to focus entirely on your work.”
She looked at the photograph for several minutes, her reflection mingling with the faces of the researchers in the glass.
“Thank you, Jordan,” she said, her voice very soft.
“Do not thank me,” I said. “This is simply the return of your initial investment.”
We went upstairs to the master bedroom, our footsteps quiet on the carpeted stairs.
The room was dark, the moon shining through the window panes and drawing pale squares on our blue carpet.
Anna sat down on the edge of the mattress, still holding the fellowship letter in her hands.
She did not turn on the bedside lamp, preferring the dim, silver light of the moon.
I sat down beside her, leaving a space of several inches between us to respect her boundaries.
