9
Iris pressed her hand over her face and waited for the coffeemaker to beep. It was already late in the morning, but then, she’d fallen asleep after four or five, unable to shake her worries over her family and what they must think of her. She wondered if she’d even be thinking this way if she were acting reasonably, but she couldn’t help it.
She thought of that night that she hadn’t shared, and now, suddenly, eighteen years of silence was breaking open in a way she never would’ve imagined. The phone rang, and she considered not answering it, then waited another second for it to go to voicemail.
She reached into the cupboard, pulled out a mug, and poured herself a cup of coffee. Then the phone rang again.
“Oh my God, stop calling!” she said. “I don’t want to talk to anyone.”
She look
