humiliation does strange things to people, that shame can crack open doors you thought were bolted shut, and for one terrible minute I let myself believe that Barbara might have won.
And Barbara, God, Barbara looked pleased. She took one slow, satisfied breath and smoothed the front of her jacket, like a woman whose plan was coming together exactly as designed.
Five minutes crawled by. The longest five minutes of my life.
Then the doors opened again.
And Brandon walked back in
carrying Lisa’s little purple overnight suitcase.
My heart just stopped dead in my chest.
Lisa saw it and her eyes went wide. “That’s mine,” she said softly. “That’s my suitcase.”
Barbara saw it too. And that satisfied little smirk of hers stretched into a wide, triumphant grin. She
thought she’d won. She actually thought her son had gone to fetch the child’s bags to send her away.
“Well,” Barbara said, warm as anything. “I’m so glad you’ve finally come to your senses, Brandon.”
Brandon didn’t answer her. He didn’t even look at her.
He walked down the aisle, all the way to the front, and he set Lisa’s little purple suitcase down on
the floor right in front of her. And then he knelt down and reached for the zipper.
And Barbara’s grin vanished.
