extremely unfortunate toaster.
He once apologized by presenting me with a diagram showing exactly why the toaster had “failed structurally.”
They fought constantly.
They defended each other even more fiercely.
And as they got older, the questions about Adam became harder.
When they were little, “Where’s our dad?” could be answered simply.
“He isn’t part of our lives.”
At seven, Amara asked, “Is he dead?”
“No.”
“Does he know about us?”
“Yes.”
That answer changed the room.
At nine, Ashton asked, “Did he leave because there were three of us?”
I nearly dropped the plate I was holding.
I crouched beside him.
“No.”
“But three babies were probably hard.”
“They were.”
“So maybe if there had only been one—”
“No.”
I held his face between my hands.
“Listen to me. Adults are responsible for the choices they make. You were babies. You did nothing wrong. Your brother and sister did
