My Father Smirked and Told the Wedding Guests

a sound, small and wrecked.

“Mom. Tell me you didn’t.”

Mom’s hand went to her throat.

“I only wanted him to stop saying she thought she was better than us.”

I looked at her.

Then at Dad.

Then back at the woman who taught me how to braid my hair for Sunday church and had just fed my records to the man who wanted to cut me down with them.

“Did either of you continue reading …