The neighborhood wasn’t bad, not compared to where she’d grown up. It was more of a forlornness that oozed from the small houses with peeling paint and mold, the people sitting in plastic chairs on their front lawns. Eric was checking it out, though she couldn’t tell what he thought of the area. He looked at her. “We don’t have to come here.” She pulled up to a small house, parking on the curb. After cutting the engine, she stared at the house. “No, it’s okay.” “You looked completely different when we pulled up to Pastimes.” She turned to him. “How did I look?” “Happy. You look far from those now.” “I was just thinking, this is the first time I’ll see my father knowing that he isn’t. I wonder if he ever suspected.” “My father did. There was always something missing, something different in the way he treated my sister and me.” She could see his pain, just a brief flash. She didn’t want to see that, so she opened the door and stepped out. “I’ve got the bags,”
