Then taking them.
After that came only fragments—a blurry road sign, a horn, then metal.
For the first time, I wondered whether the biggest mistake that morning had really been mine.
I returned to the hospital room.
“Walter, what did she ask you?”
He frowned, trying to remember. “She said, ‘Does your grandma always drive in those old glasses?'”
“When?”
“A few days before the accident.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
He shrugged. “I didn’t know it mattered.”
Neither had I.
Until now.
The following day, I asked the hospital social worker, “Has Lisa tried to get custody of Walter?”
“She’s asked about temporary guardianship.”
“Already?”
“Yes.”
“She has consulted about it,” the woman explained carefully. “Your medical condition raised questions about Walter’s immediate care.”
“What questions?”
“Whether you would be physically capable of resuming full responsibility.”
“Because of the crash?”
“Among other things.”
