“Is that what I have?”
“I don’t think so.” I say nothing else because I want Ursula to turn her attention back to me and she does.
“How do you know?” she asks.
“That woman has an illness here, in her brain.” I touch my head. “I think where you hurt is here.” And I place my hand over my heart.
Ursula studies me for a moment, contemplating my assessment, and I can see she is wondering how I can know this.
Then our attention is jointly commanded by movement just beyond us. Conrad Reese has arrived to visit his wife. He leans down to kiss Sybil’s forehead, and she exhibits no response at all to his tender touch. When he straightens and lifts his head, our eyes meet. Heat rises to my cheeks, and I don’t know why. I look away and turn back to Ursula.
Her gaze, however, is still tight on Sybil, as though she wishes she could trade places and be the woman in the room whose mind is so far gone she feels nothing anymore.
