I Arrived For Sunday Dinner At My Daughter’s House

pause.

Andrew answered for her. “North Shore Ortho. Minor dislocation.”

“Minor,” Margaret said.

Claire’s thumb moved once against my palm, a little scrape of nail against skin.

No.

That was what it meant. I knew because when she was ten and afraid to speak in front of my mother, she’d do the same thing. Once for no. Twice for yes.

I turned to the young woman continue reading …