How many good days did he have?

How bad were the bad days?

How far had he slipped?

Would I recognize him?

Stop. Pause. Take a breath.

The lobby had two different directions. A front desk sat at the hallway leading to the left, and a beeping came from behind the desk. But the right side was quiet. It led to a longer carpeted hallway.

Brenda headed for the right side, and without me asking, she’d answered the main question. How was Damian?

“We were able to get him in here—at first they were hesitant about taking him since, you know, he’s so young, but I got him in about six months ago. It took a while for everything to be approved, but so far, I think he’s enjoying it. He always did joke that he was an old soul.”

“I should just move into a senior community,” he’d once told me.

“Why?”

“Because that’s just how I am. I never thought I’d have kids. I hate loud sounds. I’m not a partier. I don’t know. Give me my sports network and my dog, and I’m happy.”

That’d been early on in our relationship, before I’d thought about kids. He mentioned one time he’d have kids if I wanted. I believed him, but he never yearned for a family of his own.

“Do they allow pets here?” I asked his mom.

Her smile lightened, and she walked with an easier gait. “Oh yes. And that was a big thing we got this year too. He has a therapy dog, and I do think Mickey has helped. He gets Damian out of the apartment and walking around. He can still…you know.”

I didn’t. “What?”

She faltered, wiping at the corner of her eye before looking away briefly. “He can still go outside on his own. They…” She paused, her shoulders rising as she filled her lungs. “They have an alarm on him. I guess he wandered once, but since he’s had Mickey, he’s doing better. Mickey guides him back.”

“I want to own a kennel and take care of eight dogs. More even.” He had laughed, as we were the couple who went to the dog park without a dog.

His hand had found mine, and I’d heard the longing in his voice. “Someday, Charlie. I know we can’t afford a dog now, but one day. And I’m not joking. Dogs over people, man. Dogs don’t leave you.”

I stopped walking as the memory blasted me inside, knives cutting me.

He had known. Somehow, he had known.