I look at the date in the bottom corner.
Weeks ago.
“That was before,” Tova says.
“Before what?”
She shrugs without looking at me.
“Before we moved in all the way.”
I fold the paper along the same crease and put it back exactly where I found it.
I set the adaptor beside the suitcase.
“You are going for three weeks, not immigrating.”
Tova looks at me.
Too soon.
I hear it after she does.
I sit on the edge of the bed.
“That was not fair.”
“No.”
“I know.”
She goes back to the sweater.
I leave the fold alone.
After a minute she says, “Mamma?”
“Yes?”
“I’m coming back.”
She keeps her eyes on the sweater.
“I know.”
This time, I mean it.
Chapter thirty
Colt
Ruth is still here when I come down, which means she has found something in this house that offends her.
She’s putting glasses away in a cupboard that’s not where we keep glasses.
“Those go on the other side.”
“They did.”