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The next morning, Diana went kayaking. When she thought of that day in the years ahead, she would remember the peace. The water, the quiet. The inner calm. The hope that things would change if only she and Keith kept out of one another’s way. She needed to quell her temper. She was ashamed of her outburst the night before. Not of the anger, which drove her, which she appreciated, but the chaos, the loss of control. She liked plans, order. She had swept the glass into the garbage in silence while Keith and his friends made dinner upstairs. She tried to ignore them but then heard her name and perked her ears, listening. Missy asked Keith if maybe his sister would like to join them and Keith had said, his voice muffled, ‘Who, Diana? No, she’s probably eating her hair for dinner.’ Mock ga
