Page 254 of Bitter’s Sweet

Not enough.

I want to explain why I said them.

That is exactly why I don't.

Sweet already knows I was scared.

Fear is not absolution.

“I lied about what you were to me because I wanted you to stop believing there was anything worth trusting.”

Her mouth tightens.

“You succeeded.”

The words go straight through me.

I nod. “I know.”

“No. I don't think you do.”

“Probably not all the way.”

That surprises her.

Good.

Maybe surprise is better than another argument.

She looks down at the frame in her lap. The corner split worse when she clutched it against her chest over the murder hole, and one side of the backing hangs loose. Her thumb brushes Mama’s face behind the glass.

“I don’t want another explanation today.”

“You won’t get one.”

“I mean it.”

“So do I.”

She studies me like she is waiting for the catch.

There is one.

The catch is I want to explain so badly I can taste blood.

I keep my mouth shut.

Sweet takes a breath, then holds out the frame.

“Can you fix this again?”

The question nearly puts me on my knees.

“Yes.”

Her eyes sharpen. “I am asking you to fix the frame.”

“I know.”