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She felt certain that her sister had fallen through the night sky: she could practically see it, hear it, and even smell the crisp winter air scented with evergreens. Sometimes—though she’d never admitted this to anyone—she felt Emma reverberating through her own body like the aftermath of a slap, like the ghost of her sister lived inside her and wanted the truth known.
Haley sat quickly—it was a good way to avoid having to shake hands and get germs—and yanked off her knit cap. “Is this one mine?” she asked, gesturing to an untouched coffee on the table.
She always marveled at the way she could maintain eye contact with Elliot for so much longer than she could with anyone else.
And anyway, he was right: Brad had hurried through that science project with him, acting like it was a chore. Priya was never less in love with Brad than when he was a mediocre father. There had been a very low point in their marriage when she’d considered leaving him, but she knew if she did her son would change irrevocably. It was a few years ago, when Elliot was seven and sensitive as ever, and as she watched his heart unfurling to the world she knew better than to do something that would close it. Of course, Priya understood why women and men left each other, and there were things Brad
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Finally he turned back to Haley and said, “That night we got together, your sister was so drunk, but the things she said were a little scary. I didn’t take advantage of her or anything, with her being that drunk. That’s not what I mean. I’m just telling you she was drunk so you understand she was telling me stuff she maybe wouldn’t have otherwise, and it was bleak.”
Josie was the one who had the common sense to call them—she’s an expert at taking care of unpleasantness.
she wondered again if maybe Brad had gotten the dosage wrong.
Josie
Priya not Josie
Why Brad and not Dean? Are all these women full of doubt?
