birthday I had celebrated during the years we had supposedly hated each other.
Every card was addressed simply to:
Alice.
I opened the first one.
Chloe thanked me for the lasagna I used to make on Sundays.
She mentioned the hug I gave her at the wedding.
She wrote:
“I hope you’re okay.”
I opened another.
She had written it when she was twenty-two.
She apologized for being distant when she first went away to college.
Then she asked whether maybe the two of us could talk.
I had never
