I paced the waiting room, resisting the urge to scream. My father could be dying, and the only man I’d ever loved barely recognized me. Between these two events happening simultaneously, I thought I’d combust, my heart being shredded by the most important men I’d known in my entire life.
How could Spencer forget me? And if he remembered, how come he pretended he didn’t? That last evening we spent together still brought on an attack of the blues whenever I’d had too much to drink. It was a rare occurrence when I allowed that far off memory to invade my brain because it was so f*****g painful. When he twisted the door handle to let himself out of the car for the final time, I wanted to pull him back inside and floor it to 95. Harvard and the Marines could go to hell.
Pressure built behind
