We watched the sunset smear red over the glistening quarry. It was the end of our second summer without her. Loops of swallows. Arcs of fish. Quiet drips of sound, the day’s wind tucked away. I recalled the story of the drowned woman. How she’d tied a rope to a rock to make that deadly anchor. That urge to disappear. I wondered if Cindy would understand that story now that she was older. Was my cousin tall and thin? Did she have short hair or long? I knew not to mention her name or ask about Aunt Doris.
I was doing what Dad had set me up to do again this summer – be a salesman like him. Dad sold envelopes. Big accounts with big companies like General Electric, Gerber and Canadian Tire while I sold bus tours in Niagara Falls. I was making good money working for Louie. No paycheques require
