I sat on the edge of the couch looking at this horrible fake rose-in-water glass ball that was on the coffee table. I’d always hated it, figuring it somehow defined my parents as these stuck, tasteless drones. What I always forgot was that my father had given it to my mother for an early anniversary when there was still love between them. Even in her grief and rejection and loss, my mother had kept the one beautiful thing that remained, leaving it out for all to see. She had her own wounds to worry about, and now she had mine, too.
“I didn’t lie; I just didn’t say anything.”
She drew in a breath of air with such control that I jumped inside.
“Oh, so a lie of omission. Shane, you owe me more than that.” She was measuring each word so carefully that I couldn’t take it anymore. I wanted to
