She was right there the whole time.
“Can I come over?” Sophie sent.
Clara sent her address and sat in the parked car for twenty minutes.
When Sophie knocked, Clara opened the door and saw her daughter’s face — guarded, suspicious, the same look Margaret always wore before an argument.
“You graduated,” Sophie said flatly, looking at the diploma on the kitchen counter.
“Yes.”
* * *
PART 3
Clara drove home from the graduation ceremony alone.
The diploma sat on the passenger seat.
She kept glancing at it like it might disappear.
Her phone buzzed.
A text from Sophie: “Mom.
We need to talk.”
Clara pulled over.
Her hands were still shaking.
She typed back: “I called you this morning.”
Three dots appeared.
Then disappeared.
Then appeared again.
“Grandma told me something.
About why you left.”
Clara stared at the screen.
Left?