Why the Sky Is Blue Read Online Free PDF Page A

was unfamiliar with, often at the last moment. But soon we were on a bridge that spanned the Mississippi River, and then in St. Paul, and I knew where he was headed.
    Dan had proposed to me along the bank of the river at a park where he used to play Frisbee and touch football with his U of M buddies. It was a place full of wonderful memories for both of us. And it was captivatingly beautiful in October.
    He surprised me by asking me nonchalantly if I was hungry, and of course I was. He turned into a drive-through burger place that he and I had eaten at dozens of times and ordered us cheeseburgers, fries, and chocolate shakes. Just like old times.
    We drove to our favorite spot, grabbed our food, and headed to a shaded table.
    “I always loved this place in the fall,” he said.
    And I told him I did too. And it wasn’t just small talk. We were both soothing ourselves with the calm beauty of a place where so many dreams and hopes had been shared between us.
    I was immensely thankful that the only memories I lost were ones from the few months before the attack.
    It scared me to think I could have awakened from my ordeal not knowing who I was or who I loved. Or who loved me. It was comforting to be where Dan had told me he loved me and wanted to marry me and that I remembered it vividly.
    Patty, my therapist, had asked me how I felt about the memories I had lost, and I told her it was difficult to feel a sense of loss at all. I didn’t feel like I was missing anything. It was just time that had been taken from me. And I had been granted more of it, so what was the big deal?
    She asked me if I missed my students. School had only been in session for a week when I was attacked. I had eighty kids on my class lists and knew hardly any of them. Was I supposed to miss them? She also asked if I was feeling anxious about going back. I didn’t feel anxious, I told her. I didn’t feel ready. She asked why. I told her I wasn’t going to go back until every trace of the bruising on my neck was gone. She nodded and wrote something down. Probably something like “Still in denial about what happened to her.” But I wasn’t in denial. I just didn’t want to provoke curiosity or pity regarding something that was no one’s business but my own.
    It dawned on me then that when she learned I was pregnant, Patty was probably going to double her efforts to guarantee I was not on a path to suicide. It wearied me to think about it. I began to twirl my straw in my shake as I contemplated her likely response. I looked up to see Dan pushing his straw up and down in his shake and looking at me.
    “We need to talk about this,” he said.
    “I know,” I said, and waited for him to say it.
    “I can’t raise this child,” he said softly. “If you don’t...if you carry this baby to term, we need to have a plan of what we’re going to do.”
    I nodded.
    “Do you understand where I am coming from, Claire?” he continued. “I know how much we both wanted more children, but I can’t pretend this child is mine. I would never be able to love it.”
    He stopped then, unable to continue.
    It was probably my turn to say something, but nothing seemed appropriate. I wondered what Patty would say if she were included in this conversation. Claire, how do you feel about what Dan just told you?
    “It wouldn’t be fair to the child,” Dan added, when I said nothing in response.
    I knew he was right, but it was not what I needed to hear.
    “For Pete’s sake, Dan, let’s not talk about what’s fair,” I almost growled.
    We sat there playing with our straws, pondering the problem of evil and our powerlessness to tame it.
    “I’m sorry,” he said.
    “No, I’m sorry,” I replied. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you.”
    Several minutes of silence followed.
    “I’m afraid of what would happen to us if we kept it,” he said, his eyes growing misty.
    “I’m not afraid,” I replied, remembering a message from heaven delivered to me just hours