Glory turned to East and wondered what in the world she was supposed to do with that information.
And East shrugged a little. Because he had no idea what she was supposed to do with that information.
And then Glory turned her focus back to the sky.
And East watched Glory watch the sky. And marveled at her and what she had been through. And then asked, “How do you breathe? If your heart is in that bag, how are you alive?”
Glory tapped her chest a couple of times. “Artificial.”
“Really?” asked East, increasingly fascinated, and trying to figure out how an artificial heart might work.
“Yeah.” Glory was touched by East’s earnest interest. And seeming lack of judgment. “When my real one broke, we didn’t have time to wait for a donor to give us a real one. And there aren’t nearly enough real ones to go around.”
“Oh,” said East. And then he thought. And looked at the small brown paper sack Glory was holding close while he did. And then he pointed at it and said, “So … that’s your heart.”
“Yeah.”
“The one that broke.”
“Yeah.”
“And the one in there”—East pointed to Glory’s chest—“is artificial?”
“Yeah.”
East thought. And then pointed to the heart that was in the bag Glory was holding. “So why do you carry this one around with you?”
“Well, because they gave it back to me when I left the hospital,” answered Glory. “So I figured I must need it, that it must still be … important. I mean—it is my heart.”
“Yeah. But it’s broken,” said East.
“Yeah—”
“’Cause your husband left you.”
“Yeah, but—”
“For someone else.”
“Yeah—”
“Well, why are you paying your respects to a guy who left you?”
“Well, because that’s what you do when a person dies, you pay your respects.”
“But … he left you.”
“Yeah.”
“And it seems to me that a man who leaves somebody doesn’t deserve any respects,” reasoned East, building a case.
Glory defended herself—and her husband. “Well, I just didn’t leave things well with him, and I’d like to apologize to him. That’s all.” Glory focused on the sky again, hoping that East would be satisfied with that explanation and let the rest go.
But East wasn’t letting the rest go. “But he left you,” he argued.
“Yeah, but—”
“He’s the one who should apologize, not you.”
“Yeah, well—”
“Why should you have to apologize?”
“Just because.”
“Because why?”
“Because I killed him!”
East froze. And tried not to look alarmed. And managed to say, “Oh.”
“Yeah. And I’d like to apologize.”
East wondered whether or not he was in danger and took a couple of tentative steps away from Glory.
And then the strange lightness Glory had been feeling expanded inside her and made her want to tell this kind, gentle man everything. He seemed to have believed everything she had told him thus far. Maybe he’d believe the rest of the strange story that had become her life over the past couple of years.