organize his funeral, feed everyone afterward, answer every phone call, clean the house, and make yourself useful until nobody noticed you were falling apart.”
I thought about the sympathy-card box I’d nearly carried out of the room five minutes earlier.
“He told me you were going to tell everybody you were fine.”
Daniel saw the recognition on my face.
“That’s why I got angry,” he said.
“But why leave?”
“Because he kept saying, ‘Somebody has to make sure your mother is okay.’”
Daniel’s voice rose.
“And I said, ‘Why don’t you tell Mom this yourself?’”
“Somebody has to make sure your mother is okay.”
I pressed one hand against the carpet.
“What did he say?”
Daniel looked at me.
“He said you were carrying enough.”
I closed my eyes.
Of course he did.
Richard had said those words hundreds of times.
“He said you were carrying enough.”
“Don’t tell Mom
