“Please, Mallory, I don’t . . .”
I look at him because I want him to just listen.
“I’m sorry. Go on.”
“Phalla would often hear me sobbing late at night. Well, I don’t know if she heard me or if she just instinctively knew I was crying. She would find her way to wherever I was and just sit with me. Her eyes were always so sweet, and there was a sense about her that made me feel less scared.”
I take a sip of my wine and then hold the glass close to my chest as I continue. I relax a bit and lean back into the couch. This memory makes me focus on the wall in front of me instead of looking directly at Ryan.
“One day we were out in the yard bringing in boxes that had arrived on a truck. Phalla and I were there with three other women. One of them was Middle Eastern, but she spoke English. Sh
