My Sister Texted That 47 People Were Coming to My Beach House for Four Days and Told Me to Stock the Fridge

up on my phone one square at a time. White passenger van. Black SUV. Another SUV behind it with a cargo carrier strapped to the roof. Children piling out before the engines even stopped. Coolers. Folding chairs. Cases of soda. Mark unfolding himself from the driver’s seat like a man arriving at a resort he owned. My mother stepping out in one of her continue reading …