I Let My Sister Talk Herself Into the Fire

monitor and said, “Are you just going to sit there?”

I shouldn’t tell you this, probably, but for one mean little second I wanted him to squirm.

He did.

“Rebecca,” he said, voice cracking around her name, “you shouldn’t have done this here.”

Not, you were right.

Not, I’ll fix it.

Just that weak, late sentence from a man who’d spent forty years avoiding the continue reading …