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“You need to go, Mom. Seriously.”
“I only want what’s best for you. You don’t want to be me, fancy-free. Your dad wouldn’t have wanted that.”
“Please go,” I croaked, my throat hoarse and dry. I had no more emotion left in my body. I was dehydrated from feelings.
“Please,” she said.
“No.” I flashed her the palm of my hand. “Just go.”
“Can we talk soon?” She stood, wearing jeans and a rumpled long-sleeved tee, and picked up her duffel at the foot of the couch.
“Maybe soon,” was all I could answer.
