When I Was Four, My Mother Left Me Alone in a Church—Twenty Years Later She Returned Crying, “We Need You”

We left.

Florence waited in the car because she had refused to sit through what she called:

“Someone else’s confession.”

On the drive home she asked:

“Well?”

“She seemed sincere.”

“That must be inconvenient.”

I laughed so hard I cried.

I never reached the same place with him.