« Happy birthday, Nora. »
Apparently, I opened my mouth, but my mother interrupted me.
« She’s sick, » she announced. « Fever, chills. We had to cancel the party. We didn’t want you to come all the way from Portland for nothing. »
Lisa’s gaze traveled over my jeans and t-shirt.
The complete absence of medicine, tissues, or even a blanket.
« Sick, » she repeated. « That’s it. »
My father interrupted the conversation, launching into a rambling monologue about the stress of the week, the fiasco of Ethan’s trip, and the palpable tension that prevailed.
It was as if he was pulling excuses out of a box.
Lisa raised her hand.
« I didn’t ask you anything, » she said, turning completely towards me. « Nora, what exactly happened? »
No one in my family has ever asked me that question.
Something inside me decided that this was it.
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