So did Marissa.
She usually called him Henry.
Neither acknowledged it.
Henry simply smiled and rotated the vanity.
Later, as we were leaving, I looked back.
Marissa sat in front of the mirror removing an earring.
Graham stood behind her brushing his teeth.
He glanced toward her reflection.
Marissa caught him.
“Stop staring at me, weirdo.”
Graham spoke around his toothbrush.
“I’m brushing my teeth.”
“Suspiciously.”
He flicked a drop of water at her.
Marissa yelped.
For one second, I almost stepped back inside.
Old habit.
Watch.
Protect.
Check.
Instead, I gently pulled the door closed.
And left my daughter to tell me when she needed me.
