“I asked you a question two nights ago, Chester.” I leaned against the doorframe.
“You never answered it.
Did you really believe you could take my money, tell me I wasn’t family, and that I would just sit at home in Denver and cry about it?”
“We didn’t mean it that way,” my mother sobbed, reaching for my hand.
I drew it back before she reached it.
“Imogen, please.
Your father was just upset that you were always working.
We wanted a trip for the — the core family.
But we made a mistake, we see that now.”
“‘Core family.'” I turned the phrase over.