I swallowed.
“He was.”
She considered that for a moment.
“I wish I could’ve met him.”
I had to pull over because tears blurred my vision.
That evening, Luna and I celebrated Christmas in our apartment.
I made grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup, her favorite meal.
She sat beside me at our little kitchen table, drawing Marian’s beautiful moth brooch from memory.
No teníamos decoraciones elegantes o regalos caros.
Pero teníamos algo que había estado desaparecido durante mucho tiempo.
Peace.
On January 3, my father appeared at my apartment.
He looked tired and carried his hat in both hands.
“Can we talk?”
I let him inside.
He sat at my kitchen table.
“Your mother and I have decided to sell the house.”
I stared at him.
“We’ve been pretending we could afford it,” he admitted. “But we never could. Not after the business failed.”
