40
Dany
After the burial, I stand with Sylvie, Gerry, Cleo and my mother at the graveside. The drizzle that began days ago is finally starting to clear. A little ray of sun twinkles on the pink and white of the granite headstone. Matilda is resting next to Steve.
“Darling, how about your friends come over for early dinner?” asks my mother.
She twists her hands together and has a hesitant half smile on her face.
“That’s really nice, but what about…”
“Your father?”
I nod.
She shrugs then tilts her face to the sky.
“He’s in Chicago,” she says. She closes her eyes and her shoulders sag.
“Why is he in Chicago?” I have the urge to reach out and take her hand. She doesn’t look like my formidable mother. She looks lost.
“He left me weeks ago, darling. Your father decided that I was an o
