I can’t sleep. My cousins talk softly in their bedroom. Every once in a while, I hear a word or Riley Rose’s high voice, but I don’t know what they’re saying. Mom is in the living room with my aunties. They’re talking, too.
I’m all alone.
“Mom?” I say, opening the bedroom door.
“Go back to bed, honey,” she says. “I’ll be there in a minute.”
It was more than a minute. I fall asleep waiting.
Something is different when I wake up. Bright daylight is coming in the window. Weird, usually I’m awake before then. Then I get it. No grind, crunch of the blender. Like bubbles popping, I remember what happened last night: Scrabble, my aunt and uncle fighting, Nana Belle’s ashes spilling out, trying not to breathe, falling asleep all alone.
grind, crunchUncle Stephen is rolling his suitcase acros
