What I had, it turns out, was a mother far stronger than I knew and a brother far weaker, and the day I opened that tin I traded a comfortable set of lies for a harder set of truths.

I would make the trade again.

A hard truth you can build a life on.

A comfortable lie only rents you a while, and then it comes due, usually at the worst possible moment, usually with your name forged on the bottom of it.

Chapter 15 — The Last Time I Opened It

I set the old white enamel tin on Mama’s dining table and ran my fingers over the faded blue rim, the cool of the metal under my hand.

The house was very quiet with Lonnie gone.