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him.
    Still Nadine said nothing. David glanced at her, sighed, and turned the radio on.
    Seeing Shannon Donegal and the other happy, pregnant women inhis office over the past few weeks had helped him stop dreading the upcoming anniversary of Paul’s death and think about the future.
    Every day, David brushed his teeth and tied his shoelaces, even though every atom in his body told him to lie down and never get back up. He’d learned to accept the days when it didn’t hurt as much and the days when it hurt even more. He wanted to be finished with death being the center of his world. He was tired of grieving and living in an endless haze.
    He wanted to see his own life again. He wanted to share that life with Nadine.
    So this morning, over breakfast, he’d told her he hoped they would eventually try to have another child. Not right now, but at least they could think about it. Maybe even talk about it.
    The very idea seemed to offend her, however.
    Now she turned the radio off.
    “I dreamed of him again last night,” she said. “He was playing on the shore of Lake Michigan. That place we went to two summers ago? I stood behind him, looking at the water, big and deep and black. I wanted to protect him.”
    “Nadine. Don’t.”
    “He didn’t care about anything. He just laughed and played. He held up his little fist and let the sand trickle out of it. So real, when I woke up, I thought it’d actually happened. For just a moment, I thought he was still alive.”
    “Okay.” David understood she couldn’t move on, at least not yet. Maybe ever. She’d experienced something she believed one did not simply get over . And that meant she might never feel ready to have another child. David knew that, in her mind, he wouldn’t even ask for such a thing if he loved Paul as much as she did.
    But he did love him as much. Paul’s loss had left a gaping wound in David’s heart that would never go away regardless of how much therapy he got or how many support groups he joined. He loved his son differently, that’s all.
    And he still loved life enough to want to live it.
    Nadine said, “He’s still here, with me.” She pressed her fist against her chest. “I feel him. Right here. Alive. I can’t just let him go. Do you understand?”
    He’s a dream, a memory , David wanted to say. The real Paul is gone, Nadine. But he understood. He parked, and they sat together while snowflakes fluttered onto the windshield and the heat drained out of the car. LED icicles, strung across the busy retail street, sparkled and drizzled drops of light. People crowded the sidewalks. They looked happy.
    “Listen. We don’t have to do this. Have lunch with them, I mean.”
    She reached and covered his hand, still gripping the steering wheel, with her own. “No, I want to.”
    This much she could do for him. He wanted more, but it would suffice.
    “Are you sure?”
    She forced a smile. “Come on. They’re waiting for us.”
    “I love you, Nadine.”
    She’d already opened her door. David watched her step onto the sidewalk. He sighed, exited the car, and limped to join her. As always, they presented a visually interesting couple—David tall and aristocratic, Nadine petite and a bit ethereal.
    She extended her elbow and allowed her husband to escort her into the restaurant. Ben and Gloria welcomed them with smiles, hugs, and concern in their eyes. The couple couldn’t produce children themselves and had doted on Paul as if he were their own. During the awkward conversation that started their meal, David felt their need to unburden their own pain as well as comfort him and Nadine.
    When the subject they were actively ignoring finally came up over salads, they all cried except for Nadine, who stared at them vacantly, as if watching a movie unfolding in a foreign language. It was a painful but essential ritual. They talked about Paul as long as they dared, and by the time the main courses arrived, the conversation had moved on to safer