He turned up the music, turned down the music, and finally turned off the music. His mother’s words tolled in his head: “God forgive me, they had to be stopped before they ruined all of our lives! When he asked her what she meant, she’d only said, “Some things shouldn’t be discussed.” After he’d asked for the third time, she’d looked at him with dulled eyes, run her hand over his wavy hair, and said in a sad, tired voice, “I don’t mean to be rude, Son, but I’d really like to be alone now. I’ll talk to you again in a few days.” When he left, she didn’t even say good-bye. She’d simply gone back to the kitchen and begun absently stirring what was left of her muffin batter. She’s been hiding from her memories, Mac thought. That’s why she’d thrown herself into her little pastry business. His mother had always tried to repress the dark parts of her life by keeping herself busy.
