My Name Is Venus Black

by Heather Lloyd

What I can’t figure out is why good memories hurt as much as bad ones. Maybe it’s because you’re not on guard against them, so they hit full force, like a slap from a wave.

Once, another boy sat in his seat and Leo got mad. Then the driver got mad and there were red feelings everywhere.

At times, she knew Shirley was worried Inez would take her own life, but the option of suicide was never on the table, a fact Inez almost resented.

Even in the early throes of grief, Inez had understood that when you lose as much as she had—her entire family—you also lose your chance to enjoy the kind of casual disregard for God that regular people can enjoy.

It’s not that she trusts God to answer. That jig is up. But she prays as a way to hang on to hope.

Never assume you can take back anything. Never assume you have time to face facts later. And never underestimate the power of a parent’s betrayal.

Damn if those good memories aren’t the worst.