“Why did we leave Mama?” Ana asked, holding my hand the next evening. From my car, we walked up the lawn to the front door, her body wrapped up tightly in a winter coat. She padded over the frozen dirt lawn and stopped me at the front door. “Did she do something bad?”
“Mama needed some time to relax,” I said to her, lying straight through my f*****g teeth. I knew that I should’ve told her what was really going on with Mom—she deserved to know—but I couldn’t get myself to say it. Not only because of her, but because of myself too.
When I opened the door, the thick scent of brigadeiros hit me. And I knew it was Mom’s way of getting Ana on her side, to show her that she wasn’t the monster I had supposedly made her out to be, even though all I wanted was for Mom to be healthy for us again.
