“It’s coming back.”
Chapter 17 — New Roots
After I left, the condo settled into a stillness like the air in a sealed room.
Marlene took to her bed, though the expensive specialists could find nothing wrong; their advice was always the same — regular routine, balanced meals, less stress — and without me there to absorb the shocks, “routine” was a fantasy.
Shane lived on burnt toast and resentment, dark circles deepening under his eyes until he looked a decade older.
And Marlene watched her son decline and, for the first time in her life, didn’t dare criticize him, because her illusion had cracked open: the sacred bond she’d lorded over me had only ever held together because I was doing all the invisible work that kept him comfortable.
She stopped walking in the courtyard.
Once she tried to corner Colleen by the mailboxes, and Colleen just handed her a misdelivered envelope and said, evenly, “You know, Marlene — that girl was gold.
You threw away a diamond to keep a lump of coal.” When Marlene spat that I had a stubborn streak, Colleen only shook her head.
“Gentle people turn stubborn when their kindness gets trampled into the mud long enough.”