Diane’s eyelashes twitched.
I leaned in. Not loud. Loud enough for the people around us.
“If it’s real, the ambulance is right there at the gate. But she’s not doing this in my yard again. And she’s not making me the one who fakes it.”
Mark looked up at me.
“Nora. She’s old. Come on.”
“When you had me apologize to the whole party, did you think about how old I am?”
Mark opened his mouth. Nothing came out.
Diane lay there a few seconds. Nobody came. Nobody crowded around her. She pushed herself up on the armrest and sat straight.
The color was still gone from her face, but the fake weakness didn’t fit her anymore.
I turned and walked into the hallway.
Diane’s suitcase was still open. Clothes mixed in with pill bottles and pillowcases.
I grabbed the handle, dragged it across the floor, down the steps, all the way out to the driveway.
