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It was the flip tone that did it. The calculated, cruel brightness, as if she thought there was a chance Erika might join her in playing the game they’d played for all those years, where they both pretended to be an ordinary mother and daughter having an ordinary conversation, when she knew that Erika no longer played, when they’d both agreed the game was over, when her mother had wept and apologized and made promises they both knew she’d never keep, but now she wanted to pretend she’d never even made the promises in the first place.
Do not engage. Remove yourself from the emotional minefield. This was why she was investing thousands of dollars in therapy, for exactly this situation.
Wherever she went, whatever she did, part of her mind was always imagining a hypothetical life running parallel to her actual one, a
His nerves were disintegrating, crumbling to dust like porous sandstone.
