From next door, Mrs. Patterson was watching from her porch, holding a watering can that she wasn’t using. When I looked at her, she looked away fast, embarrassed.
I walked back to the car. My mom was in the back seat with Evelyn. She’d unbuckled herself and was leaning over the car seat, stroking Evelyn’s cheek with one finger, and she was crying without making a sound.
My dad loaded the trash bags into the trunk one by one. When he picked up the diaper bag, he stood there holding it for a moment, looking at the house. Then he put it gently on the front seat.
He got in and started the car.
As we pulled away, I turned and looked out the back window. The blue door stayed shut.
Ben never came out. Not even to see her. Not even once.
My childhood bedroom still had glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling.
