“Size eight, ivory, low heel,” I said into the phone. “For prom, yes.”
I turned around and Hazel was in the doorway.
“What are you doing?”
“Hazel—”
“I told you to stop.” Her voice broke open. “I told you. Why won’t you listen to me?”
“Baby—”
“You keep trying to drag me back to who I was. She’s gone, Mom. She died when Mason died. Why can’t you accept that?”
“Because I love who you are now too,” I said, and my voice was shaking. “I love you in this kitchen. I love you in that hoodie. I just want you to have one night.”
“For who?” she shouted. “For you? For him?”
She slammed her door so hard the picture frames jumped.
I stood there with the phone still in my hand.
I almost called Eli right then. I almost walked across the lawn and told him to put down the needle, that I had been wrong, that I was sorry for his fingers.
