The Day My Sister Learned Whose House It Really Was

acting like you did.

Laura looked at me.

“You okay?”

I started the car.

“No,” I said.

Then, after a second, “Yeah. Maybe.”

We backed out of the driveway.

In the rearview mirror I saw my father still standing in the doorway. My mother behind him, one hand on the frame, the pink card hanging at her side.

That was Mother’s Day.

The next Sunday, nobody called.

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