down at his plate.
“I’m angry.”
Mariana nodded.
“That makes sense.”
“I keep thinking about you standing back there. And all the times I didn’t see it. All the times Dad made you wait. All the times Beatrice talked down to you and I just felt awkward, so I changed the subject.”
“You were a child.”
“I’m not anymore.”
The sentence was quiet, but it broke something continue reading …