Chapter 51
“I guess it was wrong to say Philip—that was my husband—suffered from post-traumatic stress disorder. For him, it was more like pre-traumatic. The trauma being his impending death from AIDS, which he was convinced didn’t happen anymore. And with good reason. The drugs they have today pretty much have wiped out people actually dying from the virus.” She tucked some hair behind her ear. “So we talked, and he knew the drugs were failing him. We got close, and when he said he wanted to come back here to die in the house he’d grown up in, with the view of the river, we agreed I’d come with him.”
“And you got married?”
She nodded. “Oh yes. I wore a vintage dress I had found years ago in a used clothing store in Los Angeles.” She yipped out a short laugh, almost like a bark. “It was a minidress, linen, trimmed with lace daisies around the bottom.”
I took a sip of my tea, but it had gone cold. “But you married him? Was he gay?”