The photograph was an old class picture, faded at the edges. Twenty-four children in front of a brick school, and beside them, a much younger me. Dr. Okafor pointed to a thin boy in the front row with a bandaged knee. “Do you recognize him?” I didn’t, at first. Then I saw the crooked smile. It was Graham, at eight years old, in my third-grade classroom.

“There’s more,” the doctor said quietly. “The bottle your husband has been using contains an experimental Alzheimer’s medication. It’s being tested by a research company in our state.” He paused. “The company’s founder and majority owner is Graham Fairbanks. And the consent form enrolling you in his trial carries your signature, Mrs. Fairbanks. I don’t believe you signed it.”