The petition still needed a formal response.
Marianne would submit her findings.
My parents could not simply appoint themselves to anything.
There were records to collect.
A statement for me to review.
A hearing to attend.
It wasn’t over because I had found the courage to speak.
But it was no longer happening in secret.
When Nora and Marianne finally left, the house went painfully quiet.
Chloe sat on the bottom stair.
Without her sunglasses, she looked older than twenty-five and younger than the woman who had arrived claiming a bedroom.
“Can I have some water?” she asked.
I almost said, You know where the kitchen is.
But she didn’t.
That hurt in a way I hadn’t expected.
I brought her a glass.
She held it with both hands.
“I’m sorry.”
“For which part?”
Her eyes filled.
“I don’t know where to start.”
“Start with the paper.”
