True, her father was always there, inside Pen’s mind, sometimes standing squarely in its center, everything else sidestepping or flowing around him, other times as a reassuring but nearly anonymous presence, like the lit windows of the apartment building across from Jamie’s that Pen would look at...
No, was her first thought. Not again. For a few groggy seconds, it was nighttime, and she was back in her house, alone with her mother’s roaming in the frangible, untrustworthy quiet nighttime always brought. She sat up in bed. Her mother’s bed. She saw that she was fully ...