I cried all the way home.
Still, one part of the family remained strangely untouched.
Laura.
She existed only inside the children’s bedrooms.
If an aunt mentioned her name during holidays, the children immediately looked toward Michael.
“The therapist suggested we let them bring Laura up when they’re ready,” he always explained.
It made sense.
Until I noticed they never became ready.
She existed only inside the children’s bedrooms.
***
At Laura’s sister’s birthday dinner, someone laughed about Laura burning garlic bread.
I smiled.
“It sounds like she loved gardening.”
Before anyone answered, Michael gently cleared his throat.
“Let’s change the subject.”
The room immediately obeyed.
