Part I: Journeys (Chapter 11)
Westbound on the Indiana Turnpike, Exit 49–La Porte
Remember
the
first time we went to Arkansas to see Ruby?
Nineteen
eighty-seven. I was so scared.
Did
you know that? I was afraid she wouldn’t like me, that she’d blame me for the
Mallorys giving her away. Maybe she’d even blame me for how the wicked witch of
the south – Daddy Platt’s sister – abused her.
But
mostly I was afraid because she was no longer a 22-month-old baby who adored me.
She
had her own life now, one that included me only on a peripheral level. Too many
years had passed, and we would never share the banter and the memories normal
sisters take for granted.
When
we pulled up in front of her little rock house and I saw her thin silhouette
framed in the doorway – real fear stabbed me in the heart.
I don’t want to talk about it.