They left without Chloe.
Not because she made a brave speech.
Not because she suddenly became the sister I had wanted.
She was standing near the stairs when Mom called her name, and she didn’t move quickly enough.
“Chloe.”
My sister looked at the open front door.
Then at me.
“I need a minute.”
Dad laughed once.
“You’ve had enough minutes.”
“Richard,” Marianne said.
He looked at her notebook and stopped.
Mom walked out carrying the garbage bags.
I didn’t realize until later that she had taken them because leaving them behind would have looked too much like defeat.
The moving truck pulled away.
Their car followed.
I stood at the window until both disappeared.
I had imagined their return so often as a child.
In every version, there had been an apology.
In none of them had I watched them leave and felt relief.
Nora stayed to explain what would happen next.
