Friends and Sisters—Sometimes Both at the Same Time The picture collage hanging in my room—the origins of which still remain a mystery that no one has owned up to—is something of a torment to me. It’s not the pictures of me and my new family; those make me happy. It’s all of the ones of me and Trevor, or me and Todd—even the one of me with Trevor and his parents. These are the ones that torment me, make me cry. Mom wanted to take them down when Trev and I first . . . I don’t even know exactly what to call it. Broke up? Separated? World collapsed? But I threw a big enough fit that she finally relented and agreed to let me keep them as long as it was “healthy” for me. This means I have to be really careful not to let her see me when I stand in front of them, staring at them, pretending like nothing happened and we’re still together. A knock on my door sends me scurrying quickly to my bed, belly flop down, legs up and crossed at the ankles and the magazine that had been sitting there quickly pulled up to my face as if this were my previous endeavor before I call out to invite Mom in.
