“She is my daughter.”
“I know.”
“Then stop hiding things from me.”
“I’m not protecting anyone who hurt Emily.”
“Then what are you doing?”
Linda’s mouth trembled.
“If I explain it tonight, all you’ll hear is that she cut her hair.”
She looked straight at me.
“You need to hear why she chose to do it.”
She stepped back.
“Tomorrow. Six o’clock.”
Then she shut the door.
I drove home trembling.
Emily stayed in her room.
I sat at the kitchen table and automatically opened my laptop because work had become my way of dealing with every uncomfortable moment.
The following afternoon, Linda came to take Emily to the school concert.
From upstairs, I watched them leave.
Emily was wearing a knit cap despite the heat.
Her shoulders were hunched inward as though she wanted to disappear.
Then I noticed her purple backpack beside the door.
