“Leave.”
“Let go of my bed,” I said. “You don’t get to decide who stays in this room.”
Andrew stepped toward the door and opened it.
“She asked you to leave, Mom.”
She looked at him, waiting. He held the door.
“Let go of my bed,”
At last she gathered her photographs and walked out.
He closed it, then turned back to me.
I kept my eyes on him.
There was still one question his mother couldn’t answer for him.
He closed it
“I’m sorry, Em. She made it sound so convincing, and all I could think of was my numbers, how it was my fault we’d waited so long.”
“Why didn’t you answer my calls?” I asked.
He stared at the floor. “I wanted to see Daniel first. I thought I needed an answer I could trust.”
“It was my fault.”