Something older and deeper and full of a grief I had never been able to name.
I pulled out my phone.
My hands were still unsteady.
I had one person I could call.
The only person who might have an answer.
My mother picked up on the second ring.
"Sweetheart," she said.
"How was the funeral?"
I opened my mouth.
Closed it.
"Mom," I said.
"I need to ask you something.
And I need you to tell me the truth."
A pause.
Shorter than it should have been.
"Of course," she said.
"What is it?"
Chapter 4: The Silence My Mother Never Explained
She didn't say no.
That was the thing I kept coming back to as I drove.
She didn't say no.
What she said, after a silence that stretched long enough to confirm everything, was: "Where is this coming from?
Why are you asking me this right now?"
"Mom."
