“Then what exactly is happening?”
Mom sat.
“Do you remember when your father left?”
That was not the question I expected.
“What does Dad have to do with Ethan?”
“Nothing directly.”
“Then why—”
“Something happened that year.”
I stopped.
“You were twelve.”
“I know.”
“You stopped eating lunch.”
My arms dropped.
“How do you know that?”
Mom looked straight at me.
“Ethan told me.”
ETHAN HAD FOUND MY MOTHER CRYING IN HER CAR
“One afternoon,” she said, “I was sitting in the parking lot outside school.”
“Why?”
“I had just spoken to your father.”
Her mouth tightened.
“I thought nobody could see me crying.”
“But Ethan did.”
Downstairs, faintly, I heard him laughing at something my aunt said.
Mom heard him too.
“What happened?”
