No apology.
I didn’t expect one.
The band was worn through where she’d worn it tight.
I had it replaced.
Brown leather. Same as before.
I wear it on my left wrist now.
I’m the one who shows up on time.
Brian went to trial in September.
He lost.
Six years.
At sentencing, his attorney read a statement about his mother’s illness and the “pressure he was under.”
Judge Harlan — it was Judge Harlan again, which I’m told was a coincidence — let him finish.
Then she said, “Mr. Foster, your mother wrote a letter from her d*athbed about the pressure she was under. She managed to tell the truth in it. Six years.”
He’s in Chillicothe.
I’ve never visited.
I’ve never written.
Here is the thing I didn’t say in court, because nobody asked.
When I was in Marysville, I kept books.
Not for the pr*son.
For the women.
