I Paid Twelve Thousand Five Hundred Dollars for a Family Trip, and They Planned It Without Me
The number sat in the corner of the screen like the total on a bill.
I did not play them.
Underneath were four messages.
A photograph of a tree from my niece up in Duluth.
And then Lucas, that afternoon: Mom, one motel room.
Eighty-nine dollars.
That is all I am asking.
He had written the amount out in words, as though I might misread the figures.