Some mornings, I sat at the kitchen table until the coffee went cold.
I kept staring at the empty chair across from me.
Three weeks after Marcus left, my sister Diane came to visit.
She walked into the kitchen, placed her purse on the counter, and looked at me.
“Ellie, you can’t keep doing this.”
“Doing what?”
“Spending every day trying to solve a mystery your husband refuses to explain.”
I looked down.
“I just need to understand.”
She sat beside me.
“I know.”
“Twenty-two years, Diane. How can someone walk away from twenty-two years and not tell you why?”
She took my hand.
“I don’t think Marcus is going to give you the answer you’re waiting for.”
“Then what am I supposed to do?”
En lugar de responder, se metió en su bolso.
She placed an envelope on the table.
I frowned.
“What’s that?”
“Open it.”
