ERNIE AND ERNESTINA: The Writer, His Wife, and their Afterlife

Book One, Part Two, Chapter 140: Ernie’s “I Love You”

It’s Joshua’s birthday. He calls from an amusement park.

“Christy and I have ridden the wooden roller-coaster twice. Now we’re going to the Spook House. It’s done up for Halloween. Glowing pumpkins. Neon skeletons.”

“Happy birthday to you, Joshua.”

“I got your card. I’ll open it tonight. I love my little mama.”

“I love you, too, Joshua.”

Joshua and I say this to each other now.

One afternoon of the summer before Ernie died — before we knew he was dying — he rested against pillows on the bed as he shuffled through papers. Business papers, probably. Maybe I was sitting at the window, maybe I was passing through the room — I don’t remember. I do remember, in the midst of saying something else to me, caught in the middle of his other words, he said “I love you.”

The words came out almost hoarsely, in a rusty voice, words perhaps he’d never said aloud to anyone before. Words that almost caught in his throat. Words he surrounded with other words. Words he may have been thinking about saying to me for months and finally pushed out.

I barely caught the three words. I didn’t acknowledge them. I didn’t even wonder why he said them. I remember his saying them. That is all.