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  • slithertuft7727200slithertuft7727200
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    I mouthed, “Thank you.”For two days, my mom and I stayed with my dad. Chris remained by my side—in a real chair he’d somehow convinced the nurse to relinquish as we’d been told they were precious items with only two to a room—when he wasn’t getting us food or coffee or something to read. I grew accustomed to using his shoulder and chest as a pillow. It didn’t hurt that he smelled really nice, or that he lightly caressed my arm or back, helping me drift off.Every time I started to question his presence…his desire to help out a stranger—which I still considered him to be—he’d gently shush…
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