Call me when you can. Your brother texted me. We need to talk about your mom.
For a brief moment, I closed my eyes and thought about him.
Not my dad.
Aiden Singleton.
I remembered what it was like to paint with condiments on a sidewalk, to be alive and free roaming convenient stores in the middle of the night, to make love until the sun came up.
I’d held onto the memories of our brief time together like a life raft these past two weeks.
“We’re going to be late, Em,” Ethan said quietly from the end of the hall. His cheek was still pink but I hoped it was from the cold of the ice pack not the slap.
I grabbed the keys to Mom’s Volvo and we made our way to the door. I was exhausted and it wasn’t even eight in the morning yet.
This house was getting harder and harder to breathe in.
But if I had known what was coming that day, the first day of my senior year of high school, I would’ve stayed home.
