“Yes.”
“Hank is family.”
“I know.”
“Rosa knows everything whether I tell her or not.”
“She sounds exhausting.”
“She is.”
Mom waited.
I hated when she did that.
“I don’t avoid people.”
“No. You avoid needing them.”
The shirt felt warmer against my skin.
“That’s not the same.”
“It may feel safer.”
I stood and went to the window.
The backyard looked smaller than it had when I was a child. The tree Molly once fell out of was still there, although Dad had removed the branch she used.
“I couldn’t do anything for her,” I said.
“No.”
“I know that.”
“I know you do.”
“I keep thinking about the call.”
“The one you missed.”
“She wanted dinner.”
“She probably wanted you to complain about work while she stole your fries.”
“I told her tomorrow.”
Mom’s voice softened.
“You thought there would be one.”
“I built an entire life around making sure I never say that again.”
“That isn’t a bad thing.”
“No.”
She stood and joined me beside the window.
