“Mom, please…”
“Leave.”
“Please.”
“Leave.”
She stood, clutching her coat.
At the door, she turned back one last time.
“What about Walter?”
I looked at her for a long moment.
“For once in your life,” I said, “don’t put his name next to something you want.”
Part Thirteen: Not That Easily
The front door had barely closed when I heard feet pounding down the stairs.
Walter hadn’t stayed in his room. Of course he hadn’t. He’d been standing just behind the hallway wall, listening to every word.
He ran straight into my arms.
“Is she coming back?”
“Not tonight.”
He hesitated, pulling back just enough to look up at me. His voice got very small.
“So… am I still going to live with you?”
It was the question he’d been carrying for eleven days. Maybe for four years. Maybe since the day he’d stood at his father’s grave and understood that the people you love can simply disappear.
