One Scrap of Paper from Oak Creek Hospital Rewrote Thirty-Four Years of What My Family Remembered
“She told me Gene froze the bank accounts.”
I took the warm cup from her and set it in the cup holder.
“He locked the house, cut off my computer access at school, and froze the burial trust.”
Claire touched the crescent scar under her chin with her thumb.
“He thinks if he knocks the ground out from under you, you’ll sign his ten-thousand-dollar release.”
“He loaded my childhood albums onto a moving truck,” I said.
“Thirty-four years of school pictures and report cards.”