I’m scared of what’ll happen when I go back to Mary. And I’m scared of the chemicals they’re gonna put in my body to try and make me better, and I’m scared it won’t work. I’m scared of dying, Nora. I’m scared my son will grow up without me, forget my face, forget the sound of my voice. But most of all, I’m scared that I’ll survive. Because if I do, how can I ever stand in front of a room full of people and convince them that I have the answers when I have no idea what the f*** I’m talking about?
If we can no longer separate the innocent from the guilty, everything that happened to us, all of our suffering, is meaningless.
My wife woke up the first night we arrived in your town. It’s the only time in over three years she’s talked to me. And there may be no way to prove it, but it happened and I won’t ever say it didn’t. I don’t want your wristband. Mary found hers, so she’s back where she belongs and I have no doubt that she’ll wake up again soon. And when she does, I’m going to come back and you and I will have a talk.