My phone buzzed in my pocket.
It was my sister, Vanessa. I silenced it.
Mom watched the maples for a while. Then she looked at me, her eyes suddenly clear.
« She doesn’t come anymore, does she? »
« She’s busy, Mom. The wedding. »
« She doesn’t come anymore, does she? »
« Mm. » She wasn’t fooled. Even lost, she wasn’t fooled.
I thought about my sister then, about the version of her I used to know.
Vanessa at twelve, braiding my hair before school.
Vanessa at sixteen, sneaking me cake from the fridge.
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