Home Entertainment Game Technology Advertisement Part 2: For eight years, my parents made me leave the house every time my brother brought his fiance over; Mom said, “She comes from a good family, don’t embarrass us”; Dad added, “Just disappear for the weekend”; I did; then one weekend, I never came back; it took them four years to find out where I went.

Not at home.

Not alone.

His attorney sat beside him.

Avery was not there.

Her choice.

Good.

Mitch looked older than forty should.

Or maybe I had frozen him at twenty-eight in my mind.

He saw me and started crying.

I felt nothing.

That scared me more than anger.

“Stace.”

“Don't.”

He stopped.

Mara placed the old letter between us.

It was written in Mitch's handwriting.

Dated three days after my hospitalization.

Before the insurance payment.

Before the memorial fund.

Before the first weekend exile.

I read.

Mom,

I screwed up.

I told Avery that Stacey died.

I looked up.

Mitch covered his face.

The room became very quiet.

I continued.

I don't know why.

Her father asked why I missed the Lockheart dinner.

I said my sister was in the hospital.

Avery asked if she was okay.

I said no.

Then she hugged me and I couldn't make myself correct it.