My head started to turn.
The picture was worse.
“That could be someone playing a joke on us,” I said out loud.
The photo could have been mounted. In the emergency room, he had seen enough recreation to recognize a frame when he was so carefully riding on a bed. I forced myself to breathe. Whoever did it wanted a reaction, and the smart thing would have been to stop.
Then, against my will, my mind swerved into the briefcase that had been on the kitchen table for the last month. The one my daughter hid as soon as I walked in. The suspersed calls. The extra shifts in the cafeteria, he said, were just to “spend money.”
Who wrote this wanted a reaction.
Every weird little thing of the last year has fit in, and every little scandal has hurt.
“How could Lily do this to me?”
I grabbed the edge of the comfortable to stay on my feet.
