rendezvous
RENDEZVOUS This is real. The box and everything in it, the sick, queasy thing going on in my stomach. Walter knew me, on an intimate level, long before I was aware he existed. My husband was a stalker. Is a stalker? Today’s Wednesday. The worst day of the week for life-changing information. 9:35am and I’m ignoring the text messages from the nosiest of my coworkers. This was supposed to be a quick pre-work project: purge the academic sludge in Walter’s college trunk while he’s in Narragansett. A riot of laminated and bound notes from every accounting and finance class he ever took scatter the floor, unsharpened pencils, and overused, taped-up textbooks — none of it had been touched for years....