I remembered two things from my four years of high school. The first was the dark, suffocating blanket of my father’s illness and the way I still felt trapped beneath it every time I went home. The second, and the one that stuck with me like an old splinter, was sitting by while Emme bounced from relationship to relationship. She dated a lot though never seriously. Nothing lasted more than a month or two and it always ended when there was a threshold she wasn’t interested in crossing. Some thresholds were big, others nothing at all. But she only crossed the lines she chose to cross.
