Vera’s Last VoyageBy Mark Alpert
“Sweetheart? Can you hear me?”
I open my eyes. Dark room, blank ceiling. It’s night, and I’m lying in a hospital bed. No, not a hospital—this is an assisted-living facility. In Princeton, New Jersey, I think.
“Don’t be scared, Vera. It’s me.”
That voice. It’s Bob. But he’s not in the room. The chair beside my bed is empty. No visitors allowed after 9 p.m.
Also, my husband’s dead. Almost ten years now. But that was definitely his voice.
“Good. You remember.”
Of course I remember. We were married for six decades. Forgetting Bob would be like forgetting Newton’s Laws of Motion. Ridiculous.
“Sorry, darling. But you’ve been forgetting a lot of things lately. Since your diagnosis, I mean.”
That’s irrelevant. The important things stay with me. The faces o
