I said, “Mom, a truck ran a red light.”
“And what exactly am I supposed to do about that now?” she snapped. “I’m leaving for a cruise this afternoon. Everything is already booked. I deserve this break.”
I could hear zippers in the background. Drawer handles. Movement. She was actually packing while I lay there unable to sit up without help.
“Please,” I whispered. I hated how small my voice sounded. “Jacob won’t be here until tomorrow. I just need tonight.”
She lowered her voice into that cold, offended register she used whenever she wanted to make herself the victim.
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