Me:Yes.
Three dots appeared immediately.
Annie:I will attempt to remain calm about this policy expansion.
Me:Don’t make it ceremonial.
Annie:I canceled the parade.
I smiled.
Then typed:
Texting is not forgiveness.
Her reply took longer.
Annie:I understand.
I believed she understood the sentence.
I still did not know how much she understood beneath it.
Me:Good night, Annie.
Annie:Good night, Ellie.
I left the phone faceup on the porch table.
Inside, the washing machine turned, Annie’s shirt moving with the rest of my clothes.
Nineteen
Savannah
Three years earlier
Claire was taking the good frying pan.
I noticed it before I noticed the boxes.
The pan sat on the kitchen counter beside a roll of packing tape, two wineglasses wrapped in dish towels, and the ceramic bowl we had bought at a street market because Claire said the uneven rim gave it character.
I had said the uneven rim gave it structural concerns.
We bought it anyway.
Now it rested inside an open box markedKITCHEN — FRAGILE, which seemed optimistic.
I closed the apartment door behind me.
“You’re taking the pan.”
Claire looked up from a stack of plates.
“You don’t cook.”
“I make eggs.”
