Mom’s eyes glisten as she holds the glass out in front of her with two perfectly manicured shaky hands, gazing down at the man who stole her heart so many years ago. Who she has spent almost as many years trying not to love. Jonah’s body stiffens, and I realize he’s holding his breath along with me, as we wait three . . . four . . . five seconds for my dad to say something. Anything. My dad begins to sob. And just like that, I sense a circle closing. Back to the beginning, and near to the end.
