“Oh my God,” she said. “She kept these? She kept all of these?”
“Every single one.”
She went through the drawings one by one. The get-well card with the yellow lights. The birthday cake shaped like a house. The little clay pineapple, which made her laugh out loud. “I can’t believe
she kept this! It’s so ugly!”
Then she found the envelope taped inside the lid. She looked at the front. For Willa. She looked up at me.
“Go ahead,” I said.
She opened it. She unfolded the bank statement. She read it.
I watched my daughter’s face. I watched her read the name at the top. I watched her find the
number at the bottom. I watched her read it again. And again.
She didn’t say anything. She just stared at it.
Then she put it down on the table very carefully, like it might break. And she put her face in her
