While we waited for her to continue I silently cursed the Internet. It was really a marvel, but sometimes, like now, it failed miserably. Why hadn’t it spit out the information that both Mr. Newman and Erika Newman were dead. Rhoda picked up a paper napkin and started to slowly tear it into shreds. “It was a long time ago, Erika’s death. It’s what broke us apart. They say when two people lose a child it either brings them closer or tears them apart. It did the latter for us. Ira blamed me. The doctors said it was inherited, but he didn’t want to hear any of that. He said it was my fault and that was the end of it. It wasn’t something he was ever going to forgive me for, so he left. He tried to make a new life for himself, but drinking got the best of him. He went through another divorce and never did have any more children.” The kettle whistled and Rhoda Newman got up and poured hot water in the mugs and then placed a small box of teabags on the table.
