And All Our Wounds Forgiven (2011)
“The white woman had appeared early that afternoon. Shyly, almost fearfully, she asked if she could see Andrea Marshall. If not for the offering of respect in her voice, the head nurse, an almost equally tall black woman, would have assumed she was a reporter. She was about to tell her someone was in the room already, the man who had come in the ambulance with Mrs. Marshall last night, when, from the far end of the corridor, she saw him coming toward them. As he got closer he looked up, saw the ...white woman at the nurse’s station, stopped, and said, “Lisa?”
“Bobby?”
They embraced with the overeagerness of two who had been absent from each other more years than had been shared. Yet, the looks they exchanged (once past the comparing of hairlines (his) and gray strands (hers)) were a tentative affirmation of the memories joining them, memories as defining of their lives as if they had been married and buried their only child. They embraced again with a tremor of anxiety at this unexpected resurrection of a past that, apparently, had not been buried and now appeared not even to have died, and, unlike them, had not aged.MoreLess
“Bobby?”
They embraced with the overeagerness of two who had been absent from each other more years than had been shared. Yet, the looks they exchanged (once past the comparing of hairlines (his) and gray strands (hers)) were a tentative affirmation of the memories joining them, memories as defining of their lives as if they had been married and buried their only child. They embraced again with a tremor of anxiety at this unexpected resurrection of a past that, apparently, had not been buried and now appeared not even to have died, and, unlike them, had not aged.MoreLess
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