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Beautiful. She was smart. Had money. Education. Success. A woman superior to Jenna herself. Kendall’s false eyelashes trembled, her gaze following Daniel’s retreating figure. Her eyes narrowed, and lips pursed. “They’re all like that, you know. These guys. Either pussies or whores.” A burst of applause showered the dining room. Jenna looked over the column of the other woman’s graceful neck. Her flowing body, jaunting ass. Then traced up her statuesque figure and looked into her face again. “Which one are you?” Jenna asked, her voice breaking. Kendall’s expression froze for a moment before her face softened. The striations in her thick lips gathered at their center. She looked at the floor, fake lashes fanning the still air. Spine straight against the wall and shoulders pinched, Jenna’s bones felt like they’d petrified. But if she moved, she knew she’d crumble. Her mass of curls fell back onto her sleek shoulders as the other woman lifted her head. But when her lost eyes met. He had managed to look strong and imposing, and impossibly stern even in death. I hadn’t stayed for long. Later, leaving the viewing, I had decided to accept her breakfast invitation. Back in my hotel room, I had taken a faded family picture from my suitcase. It was the last real family picture. Looking at it, I was amazed that I had been able to leave only months after the sixteenth birthday party where it was taken. I looked so young, and small and weak like my mother. The sweater I wore in the picture had been a favorite, I remembered wearing it to hide the bruises, it’s high neck the perfect cover. I had grown tired years before of wondering why my father was so angry, why my mother stayed, why nobody did anything when it seemed like everyone knew. It was all that either of them knew, I think. To him, it was love. I still don’t know what it was to my mother. I wanted to forgive myself for leaving them to each other, but I knew that in order to do it, I was going to have to let go.
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