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“The kids are in the back, you can go around the side, Krystal,” her mom said. I found Amber sitting on the stone patio crying, her face red and blotchy from the tears. At first, I thought her stepfather, Brian, had yelled at her. I thought her dog was sick or something equally predictable had happened. “What’s wrong? What’s wrong,” I asked. I sat next to her and held her hand but my stomach began to twist with dread when she wouldn’t say anything. Finally, Jeffrey, whom I hadn’t noticed, got up off of a black lawn chair. I looked at him and registered with surprise and fear that his eyes were red-rimmed as if he, too, had been crying. Big, strong Jeffery, who was almost eleven, had been crying. “Brian cut the tree,” was all he said. The words didn’t make any sense at first. The tree was still there, I would’ve noticed if it were gone. But I looked at the tree, really looked and I saw the horror that had been put upon our playhouse. The two branches, the ones just in reach, that. I tried to hide that fact as we sat at the kitchen table for coffee. I stirred the clouds floating in my mug and crossed my legs for protection. Karen unwrapped a package from the bakery she bought yesterday and went right to work on the muffin. “Hungry?” she asked with a mouthful. "I’m always hungry, but I’m more hung over than hungry," I explained. She leaned across the small table and softly caressed my cheek with the back of her fingers. “I’m glad I found you, again,” she said, staring at me with that smile. "I didn’t know I was lost," I teased with a dreamy tone. “Oh you were lost, and in so many tragic ways.” I knew she was talking about my bad marriage, but I refused to respond. I politely grinned and sipped at my coffee. “What are we going to do, today?” Karen asked, as if we had plans. "I need to go home and clean up," I said, clutching the collar of the blouse I was wearing two days in a row. “Okay, but it's Sunday and I have nothing to do. Can I go home with you?” she.
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