After Dad leaves, Lily and I go upstairs to check on Mom, but we don’t find her in her bedroom. She’s curled up next to Joel in his bed, hugging him closely. Her forehead is creased, although her body rises and falls with even breaths—as if she’s thinking too deep, even in her sleep.
Lily whispers from behind me, tugging at the sleeve of my sweater. “Do you think she’s going to be okay?”
I can feel the concern in her voice, and also the hint of pity. Mom’s situation is pitiful but Lily knows less about it than I do. She will always know less. She didn’t see things that made her ask questions, which meant she never received fully honest answers to them. Mom doesn’t like lies. That was the first thing I struggled to learn about her. She can take the most bitter truths, but she doesn’t for
