The morning after finding out about Cole, I dropped by Dr. Kamara’s room. She took a moment to answer, and I could tell that she had been crying.“Are you okay?” I asked.
“Yes. Yes, I’m fine,” she answered. “Please come in. I think the coffee is ready. I just need a minute more in my bedroom.”
By the time Dr. Kamara returned to the tiny living room, I had our coffees poured. A small boat arrived each week with supplies, and of all the things they brought, we were both most grateful for the coffee, cream, and sugar. I pulled out a small cream pitcher from a miniature refrigerator she kept in her room and added it and sugar to our coffees.
“You know just the way I like it,” she said.
“Oui,” I replied. “What I would really like to know though is why you were crying this morning.”
She chuc
