Sunday
I couldn’t stop rubbing my knuckles; the winter cold always made the burning ache worse. I should walk home before it got dark outside. But I couldn’t bring myself to move.
William was studiously ignoring us—he did every time Ann came to visit. It was like it got to be too much for him. It hurt her, of course, but there was nothing I could do about it.
I understood why she didn’t see us very often anymore. She had a life of her own, and it was rough being ignored by your father. It didn’t matter that she was an adult; being forgotten was hard.
Everything was hard nowadays.
“Dad.” She reached out to stop my rubbing. Her almost-grey eyes were haunted, and the ever-present guilt crawled up my legs and into my core. If I could, I would’ve saved her from this, saved her from everyth
