Chapter 45

Penny clutches her chest as if hurt. “Subs!” she cries in mock horror. “Oh, the humanity! Do they even use olive oil down there? Wait! Don’t tell me. Italian dressing, right?” Now Dan’s laughing as well, and Penny shakes her head in dismay. “The heathens. We’ll fix you boys up with real cheesesteaks tonight, I promise.”

As she turns to leave, I catch her wrist. In my hand, hers feels frail, like an intricate macramé. “Thanks again,” I whisper. “How are you holding up, Penny?”

For a moment I don’t think she’ll answer. I’m still a child to her—she won’t confide in me. But then her chin crumbles, her lower lip trembles, and she touches her hair as if checking to make sure it’s still there, a habit she shares with my mom. “Fine,” she whispers, forcing a brave smile. “Fine, Michael, really. I’ll be fine.” She gives me a tight hug. “I’ll have to be, right? Thanks for coming, both of you.” With a sad smile at Dan, she leaves.

And we’re alone at last. 14: Alone