“Please don’t do this.”
I immediately regretted saying it.
I looked at him.
“I’m not doing anything.”
“You’re comparing any girl to our daughter.”
His voice did not denote anger. That almost made it harder.
It seemed exhausted.
I said quietly, “I know she’s not Maggie.”
“I’m not doing anything.”
“Then leave it there.”
I reached out over the table.
He pulled out his hand before I touched him.
“Every time you say she looks like Maggie,” she said, “I lose sight of Maggie again.”
After that I stopped talking about Lily.
But I kept looking at her.
He pulled out his hand before I touched him.
She was a good student: thoughtful, fun and serious in her studies.
He liked old mystery novels and sometimes left recommendations in sticky notes on my desk.
One said, “This starts slowly, but trust me.”
Below I wrote, “That sounds suspiciously like something a person says before recommending 600 pages.”
