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.

For two years, no contact.

Then he sent one letter.

Not twelve.

One.

Stace,

I will not ask you to answer.

I am sorry I made your disappearance convenient for me.

I used to say Mom and Dad forced us both into the lie.

They did not force me for eight years.

I chose it many times.

I am trying to become someone who can say that without adding “but.”

I kept the letter.

Did not answer.

Another year passed.

Then Grandpa—no.

I had no grandfather left.

Strange how grief sometimes reaches for people not in the room.

Ruth turned seventy-eight.

Still climbed ladders she had no business climbing.

One afternoon she fell from the second step of a pruning ladder.

Nothing broken.

Her pride suffered catastrophic damage.

I drove her to the clinic.

While waiting, I realized something.

Ruth had spent twelve years being more family to me than the people whose names appeared on my birth certificate.