He tried to get my father to come to the door, but under the threat of being arrested, he finally backed down and walked back to the gate. “What are you so angry about?” Sophia asks her son while hanging onto my arm, keeping me close to make sure I’m all right. He points toward the rise hiding the luxurious home he described to us. “He treated Dottie like she didn’t matter. Like she was nothing!” His words echo the pain inside me. But as I’ve always done, I tuck those feelings away in the dark, stuffy cellar of my soul. “Yes.” Sophia’s tone is as soothing as chicken noodle soup, “but we all know better than that, don’t we?” “But—” She raises a finger to interrupt his tirade. “Don’t project your own injuries onto her.” She gives Leo one of those looks that carry years of understanding between mother and son. “If you’re angry at having no father, I can understand that. But don’t make this situation worse than it is.” His face contorts until I expect steam to spew out of his ears.
