I said it the way you say a prayer you’ve stopped believing.
« What’s that supposed to mean? »
***
On the drive from the airport with Lola, I let my head rest against the window and remembered things I usually pushed away.
Kevin at the dinner table, eyeing Sarah’s sweater.
« She looks like she got dressed in the dark. And that laugh, Maureen. »
« She’s finishing high school, Kev. »
« She’s 18, not eight. Stop treating her like a princess, » he often snapped.
« She looks like she got dressed in the dark. »
Every jab arrived suddenly, and I kept quiet, setting the sharp thing aside without looking.
Continue on the next page:
