“How was it?” she asked.

“Hard,” I said.

“But I asked what I needed to ask.”

PART 19

Tiffany wrote to me that summer.

Unlike Dad, she didn’t ask to see me.

She sent a long letter through the caseworker, acknowledging that she had collected the medication under my name, hidden it, and lied about where she’d found it.

She wrote that she’d been afraid of Dad finding out about the medical visits and the money she’d spent.