I saw the lights sweep across the wall. Across my bookshelves. Across the framed photograph of the Tidewater team on the day we closed the sale.
Ezoic
Nobody drives down my road at night. Nobody drives down my road at all, unless they’re coming to see me.
And nobody comes to see me without calling.
I stepped out onto the porch.
Two vehicles in my gravel driveway.
A silver Honda Pilot I recognized. My parents’.
And a white Toyota Sienna minivan with Georgia plates. My sister’s.
My mother climbed out first.
Sixty-four. Silver bob. A pale pink cardigan. Smiling like she’d come to deliver a birthday cake.
Ezoic
“Surprise!” she said. She opened her arms wide. “We thought we’d spend the week with you!”
Behind her, Melissa was already opening the trunk of the minivan.
Thirty-five. Three years younger than me. Blonde. Pretty. In leggings and an oversized Clemson sweatshirt. She didn’t look at me. She was looking at the house.
