she handed me her crocodile handbag at Terminal 4 and told me to carry it, she genuinely believed I would obey.
“Careful, Nora,” Patricia said, extending the bag toward me. “That bag is probably worth more than your apartment.”
I took it.
Not because she had the right to order me around.
Not because I was afraid of her.
And certainly not because I had forgotten who I was.
I took it because I wanted to see how far she would go.
My father was standing three feet away.
He
