They Hid Me Behind A Pillar At My Brother’s Wedding

changed.

I didn’t correct him.

That was the deal.

Not written. Never said clean.

My mother came into my room three days after the fire, while I was packing a duffel bag with socks, two paperbacks, and a bottle of medicated cream the size of a church candle.

“Your father can’t lose Ben,” she said.

I remember the stupid little duck pattern on her nightgown.continue reading …