She thought about that. Then she nodded, slowly, like it made a kind of sense. I think it does. Some grief is so old and so private that it lives below language. It doesn’t mean he didn’t trust me.

I really do believe that now, most days. It just means that some things happened to him before I existed in his life, and he found a way to tend to those things on his own terms.

Bench 14 is still there. We haven’t done anything official about it, no plaque or ceremony. Mara asked if we should tell the parks department and I said I didn’t know yet. It felt like a decision that didn’t need to be made quickly. Some things can just be what they are for a while.

I go back sometimes. Not every Sunday. But sometimes.

I hold the armrest. I drink my coffee. I don’t know who I’m sitting with, exactly. But I don’t feel alone on that bench. I’m not sure I ever will again.