Chapter 12

She squatted down to begin picking up the broken crockery, piling the Fiesta ware into her apron, and tried not to cry. She hazarded a glance at her son and wondered where the strapping and handsome blond young man she had raised had disappeared to. What lay on the bed, in a pair of stained gray sweatpants and a Steelers T-shirt that reeked of BO, was a stranger, a wraith, a grown man who was over six feet tall yet probably weighed less than 130 pounds. It broke Maisie’s heart.

She got to her feet, holding the apron, full of its broken soup bowl and plate, out in front of her, and managed to waddle out the door. In the kitchen, just down the hall, she emptied the apron into the wastebasket under the sink, being careful that no tiny sharp pieces clung to the apron. She found a plastic bin under the sink and brought it out to fill it with hot water, to which she added a little dishwashing liquid. She stooped again to find a scrub brush.