3
James
I hated when women cried. My mom was a crier. She told me it was how some women, some people, released the extra energy inside. That it was like screaming or laughing, but when an emotion was so intense that they couldn’t hold it in.
My mom cried when she was happy, but more often, she cried when she was scared. When she worried about paying the bills or losing her job. When my brother or I got into trouble for doing something stupid when she was at work. When the latest man left and took something that mattered to her.
Holding Trinity while she cried reminded me of that kind of crying. Scared. Her world was shattered. She might have grown up in a city where crime was a regular occurrence, but in MacKellar Cove, crime was almost laughable. Crime was kids stealing street signs a
