“If you walk out that door, don’t come back.”
“Are you ready, baby?”
“I’m ready.”
I stepped around my father. Carl watched from the dining room with a strange, tight expression, like he already knew how this ended. My mother followed us onto the porch.
“If you walk out that door, don’t come back.”
“Okay, Mom.”
That was the last thing I said to her before the wedding. Neither of them came. Graham’s mother sat in the front row in a lavender dress, crying through the whole ceremony.
Afterward, still in my dress and his rented jacket, we drove to café and ordered a pepperoni pizza. Grease on the tablecloth, laughter loud enough to make the waitress smile at us. For twenty minutes, I was happier than I had ever been.
You need to know the truth about your parents.
Then Graham went quiet. He set his slice down and wiped his fingers slowly on a napkin.
