cnu-At my fortieth birthday party, my sister swung a baseball bat into…

twelve, old enough to understand manners and young enough that Vanessa still treated every complaint from her like an emergency broadcast.

“Anita,” Vanessa sang, giving me an air kiss that landed somewhere near my cheek. “Look at you. Forty. I cannot believe it.”

“Thanks,” I said. “I think.”

She laughed as if she had meant it kindly.

Brooklyn did not say continue reading …