![]() ![]() “Don’t bother.” I pull out the top rack of the dishwasher. “I’ll see if she can fit you in this afternoon.” Parker right away instead of waiting for your next appointment.” “Your mother called late last night with the news. She crumbles the edges of the cookies before she puts them in the box, to make it look like she baked instead of bought. I take a clear plastic box and lid out of the cupboard and hand it across the island to her. “This must feel awful.” She rips off the cardboard ribbon. She reaches for the box of oatmeal raisin cookies on the table. ![]() ![]() The steam freezes when it touches my face. (My stepmother) Jennifer could lock the door, twist the dial to SCALD, and press ON. I wish I could crawl in and curl up between a bowl and a plate. I open the dishwasher and lean into the cloud of steam that floats out of it. “We didn’t want you hearing it at school or on the news.” Jennifer crams the last hunk of muffin into her mouth. I nod like I’m listening, like we’re communicating, and she never knows the difference. I can’t let me hear this, but it’s too late. So she tells me, the words dribbling out with the cranberry muffin crumbs, commas dunked in her coffee. ![]()
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