The least I can do is help. I pull out pepper and season salt from the grocery bag, instinctively opening the cabinet to the right of the stove, only to find stacks of plates. “Spices over there now.” Terry nods to the cabinet on the left. It’s a small thing, but not knowing where my mama keeps her spices feels like another thing Terry robbed me of. She betrayed me. She stole from me, but I’ve been the one in exile.
