“Fine,” I said. “Sunday. But you are going to explain every single thing to me. Do you understand?”
“I understand.”
I hung up before he could say anything else.
I stood in the hallway for a long time. Then I walked to our bedroom and opened his side of the closet.
I didn’t know what I was looking for.
Something. Anything that would make the shape of his voice make sense.
Behind his folded jeans, tucked under a shoebox, I found a manila folder.
I picked it up.
There were bills, credit card statements marked past due, a second phone, and a printout of a studio apartment listing across town, signed in his name.
I sat down on the edge of the bed and stared at it.
I didn’t know how to process everything. I knew there was only one person who could help me. My sister, Marion.
