A silent winter gave way to a violent spring. Shouts, slammed doors, then tears and bitter questions. Are you saying she’s better than I am? Are you?
Finally my father left with his suitcase, and my mother went to lie down. Like she did all those times we were supposed to go to the lake for a picnic, right at the last minute, after I’d changed into my suit and he was already in the car, waiting. I’d go out and say it was off, and he’d put the sandwiches he’d made back in the refrigerator and go grade some more papers.