He Asked Me to Stop Talking About My Cancer

on the porch in sensible sandals with her purse over one arm like she was waiting for a dental appointment.

Marcus looked from her to me to the van.

“What is this?”

I said, “The locks are being changed.”

He laughed once, sharp and ugly. “On whose authority?”

Doris answered him. “Stop embarrassing yourself.”

He swung toward her. “Mom, stay out of this.”

“No.continue reading …