CHAPTER
TWENTY-THREE
I wake to the sound of Trina washing dishes. The clock says six-thirty. I move down the hall, where early morning sunlight filters through the blinds, painting the kitchen in golds and yellows. Other than the sound of the water in the sink, the room is quiet and suspended in serenity. As I sit down at the table to a glass of juice, Trina turns from the kitchen sink to face me. Her expression is soft, and briefly she smiles, but then settles into something less. I watch her struggling and get up from my seat to hold her by the shoulders.
She starts to cry and mumbles, “I want to keep last night separate.” She looks at me, her features a pastiche of hope and regret. “I’m trying to see what’s right for me.” She takes several breaths, stammering, “I got—I got accepted t
