The Rose That Withered in the Desert

My husband, Patrick Walker, was a desert expedition leader. Every time a trip ended, he'd bring me back a pink crystal rose, the kind that only grows out at Devil's Flats. In three years of marriage, he brought me eighty-nine of them. I said, smiling, "Once we've saved up ninety-nine, let's have a baby." But starting with his ninetieth expedition, he stopped bringing anything home.