Justine
It was barely light when Justine left her daughters sleeping in Lucy’s bed. From the basement she got the presents that Santa Claus would leave on the living room floor: hair ribbons, socks, a diary for Melanie, a doll with golden hair for Angela. A couple of cheap cotton sweaters. The usual pathetic haul. But she’d also bought a pair of imitation suede boots like the ones Angela coveted, and for Melanie she’d bought a secondhand guitar. It cost $40 at the pawnshop, almost more than everything else combined, and way too much, given Lucy’s dwindling account balance, but when she saw it she thought about Melanie singing in the chorus and Francis moving her fingers across the frets and she wanted, immediately and powerfully, for Melanie to have it.
When she’d laid out the gifts, she
