“Don’t you want me to be happy? Isn’t that what matters most?” In the brief moment before her answer, I imagine she’ll say yes and tell me I don’t have to go. I think of what it would feel like to have her on my side. “No.” My mother lets go of my hand. Bitter disappointment envelops me. “What matters is that you are safe. That we follow the laws. They are clear as day. Right there.”
