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“And we’re getting ice cream.”
My mother-in-law, Linda, had always been incredibly involved in Emily’s life.
She drove her to school whenever I couldn’t.
She attended concerts.
She knew the names of Emily’s friends.
She remembered rehearsals, projects, and school events.
My husband traveled constantly for work, so Linda had gradually become the person Emily could rely on whenever one of us wasn’t available.
I told myself I was grateful.
Sometimes, though, gratitude felt uncomfortably similar to jealousy.
“You could come tomorrow,” Emily said.
I looked toward my laptop.
“I have a deadline.”
Her expression changed slightly.
“Maybe next time?”
“Definitely.”
She didn’t answer.
She just leaned a little harder against my knee.
I had no idea it would be the last time I ever touched her long hair.
The next afternoon, shortly after five, I was buried in emails when the front door opened.
“Hey! How was shopping?”
No answer.
I heard Emily hurry across the floor toward the stairs.
When I stepped out of the kitchen, I caught sight of her.
She was wearing a huge black hoodie.
The hood was pulled so tightly around her face that I could barely see her.