Chapter Eighteen
Mari and I sat on the floor of the front room, our collection of gifts from Mom’s friends surrounding us.
We’d started by emptying every hidden corner of the apartment but the growing room.
It was dark by then, and Mom still hadn’t come home.
I’d tried to keep Mari busy, having her load our extra water and the med kit back into the cubbies in the bedroom. I didn’t want to send those things to Jaime’s. Not yet.
Not until she’s dead.
I tried to convince myself I wasn’t turning my mother into a ghost as I sorted through the leftover scraps of the sunproof fabric Mom had used to line our hats and coats. I was preparing to take care of Mari. I wasn’t getting ready to send Mom to the burners. I wasn’t planning for Mom’s death. I was organizing our assets to keep them safe
