was the one who fixed the loose railing.
I was the one who drove her to appointments.
I was the one who sat beside her when she was too tired to speak.
At the will reading, my aunt Patricia wore black lace and said, “Ruth would have wanted us to share the house.”
The lawyer adjusted his glasses.
“Ruth left the property solely to Nora.”
Twenty-three faces turned toward me.
For the first time in my life, they all seemed to remember I existed.
By December, the messages began.
Can’t
