27It wasn’t long before Mom was seeing Dirk almost every day. Dirk even started bringing groceries. He fried fish and chips for dinner one night and then cooked again a few days later – stir-fry vegetables with grilled salmon.
Mom was exuberant. She bought yoga clothes that made her body look young and dyed blond streaks in her hair for the first time ever. She even cleaned the kitchen cabinets and bought a set of new pans.
“A musician who cooks, can you imagine? How lucky could I be?”
She played the recordings Dirk had made of Ethiopian music. Dirk’s thing, aside from being a singer-songwriter like my dad, was to go to exotic places and produce ethnic albums.
I was horrified when he picked up the little guitar Dad had left for me, the one Skye always played. There was no way Dirk was
