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“Mom, aren’t you hot?” I asked.
She quickly looked at my father.
I still remember that look.
My father looked back at her.
For a few seconds, neither of them spoke.
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Then my mother smiled.
“I’m used to it.”
That was the first time I wondered why she had looked at my father before answering.
After that, I began noticing more things.
My mother never went into the swimming pool.
Whenever we went to the beach, she always wore a lightweight long-sleeved shirt.
In family photographs, you could almost never see her bare arms.
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If someone accidentally touched her left arm, she would instinctively pull away. And my father… He acted strangely
whenever the subject came up.
One afternoon, my grandmother said,
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“Mary, at least roll up your sleeves. It’s boiling out here.”
