Chapter 7

I remember how the stars that used to twinkle in her eyes whenever she looked at Dad slowly lost their shine only to be replaced by weariness, resignation, and resentment.

“Love dies in a shithole,” I finally mutter. “Not even the greatest romance can survive constantly worrying about having enough money to feed your kids, or that the utilities will be turned off. Love dies and all that’s left is yelling and throwing things and bitterness. You have no energy left to love someone when you haven’t eaten in days. Not your kids, definitelynot your husband. All you can muster up the energy for is the necessities. Nothing as frivolous and unnecessary as love.”

Frankie gasps. “Love isn’t unnecessary.”

I look at him then. His eyes are wide and shiny, and his hand covers his mouth. He looks as though someone ripped his world apart and stomped on the pieces, and his bobbing Adam’s apple makes it impossible for me to stop myself from taking his free hand, caressing it with my thumb.