Chapter 25
The second I entered the living room and kitchen, Philip noticed something was wrong. His eyes darted from me to the hallway as he shelved cupboards and filled the empty refrigerator with groceries.
I didn’t talk, just helped put cookies and cakes for dessert on top of the counter, and shoving organic kale leaves and Christmas-bulb sized tomatoes and big-bodied beets into the crisper drawer.
Our gazes met, when our hands brushed each other’s, cramming large boxes of whole-wheat crackers and a can of green olives on the same top shelf. Philip turned to me, unsure what to say, eyes focused on me.
I shook my head, defeated, provoked by fear, thinking about my sister. I sighed, and asked my mother if she wanted anything. She batted a hand at me, concentrating on the puzzle befor
