Love Isn’t Rent
“Her name,” my mother said, behind me.
“That’s all.
I’m not asking for anything else and I’m not going to ask again.”
I stood in that courtyard with my back to her for a long time.
“June,” I said.
And then I walked to my car, and I drove out of Madisonville, and I got about eleven miles up the state route before I had to pull onto the shoulder because I couldn’t see.