Shred Sisters

by Betsy Lerner

my parents saw it, they had spent the better part of two years shuttling back and forth from the hospital, bailing her out of trouble, trying to help her. They’d had it.

When a phone rings in the middle of the night, the news is never good; nothing prepares you for the simple, terrifying question: “Is this the Shred household?”

Also terrifying was how quickly we resumed our routines and roles.

On the day that officially ended our life as a family, we also made a pact to let one another know if Ollie surfaced. For a long time, we began our calls the same way: have you heard from her? Eventually, we stopped asking.