Clean the marker for 20 minutes.
I changed Emma’s sheets.
I took Grace’s hat off.
Then I called the woman and told her that we weren’t going to work out.
She had spoken about the girls as if it were something that was happening to me.
By then, they weren’t.
They were mine.
***
Our mother, Reese, never came back.
Not even for birthdays.
Not even for Christmas.
Not even when Emma broke her arm at nine years old.
Not even when Grace won a statewide essay contest.
Not even when Sophie graduated top of her class and pretended she wasn’t looking for me in the crowd until she saw me standing there.
***
Twenty years passed.
Then my 43rd birthday arrived.
Sophie usually arrived 20 minutes late with candles that nobody needed.
That night, they arrived together.
Silently.
That was the first warning.
During dinner, Emma barely ate.
Grace’s eyes looked
