The next morning, Lorraine hosted brunch.
She had reset the dining room as carefully as if the previous day had left no mark on anyone.
White dishes were arranged across the table.
The silver napkin rings were back in place.
Handwritten place cards told everyone where to sit.
It was exactly the kind of detail Lorraine loved because a place card looked welcoming while still giving her complete control over where everybody belonged.
I noticed mine first.
Then Travis’s.
Then the cards for the cousins, aunts, uncles, and in-laws gathered around the table.
Everyone had a name.
Except Zia.
Her card contained one word.
Guest.
I saw it at the same moment Travis did.
My first instinct was to reach for it, tear it in half, and finally say every angry thing I had swallowed over the previous three years.
Travis did not move toward the card either.
We both looked at Zia.
