Don’t get friendly with her.
Still, I hated the uneasiness because of how I grew up. My parents could spend weeks after arguments communicating through me.
“Tell your father dinner’s ready.”
“Tell your mother I’m not hungry.”
By twelve, I had one rule: say the ugly thing out loud.
Oliver knew that.
I’d told him early in our relationship, “You can tell me any truth. Just don’t make me hear it from somebody else.”
I hated the uneasiness.
He’d said, “Deal.”
For seven years, I believed him.
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