And waited. The moment spun out, and the sick disappointment began to swell in my stomach. “Keep going,” I said. My own voice was barely recognisable to me; it sounded like a pleading child’s voice. An unwieldy fear sat an inch outside my consciousness, the kind of fear that signifies that everything has changed forever in one’s perception, because I started to understand that this was not normal, that me pleading like a child for the old woman to speak was not within the usual ambit of my experience, and that something bad had become uncontrollable in my life. “I don’t think I can, Sophie,” she said with a huge sigh. “I grow so very tired.” “But I’ll die if you don’t finish.” “Do not misunderstand me. I want very much to finish. I am very close to the end now, but I am old and I am weary and I have been speaking for hours.” “But will I have to wait another week?” The thought was unbearable. “No. For I wish this whole business to be over finally. No, come back whenever you wish.”
