Then I saw the label.
GILBERT.
Our address.
Honolulu origin.
It had been shipped three days before Dad’s accident.
There was no return address I recognized.
I stared at it long enough for the driver to ask if everything was okay.
“Yeah.”
It wasn’t.
I dragged the package inside.
“Mom?”
She entered the kitchen carrying a stack of condolence cards.
Then she saw the box.
The cards shifted in her hands.
“Where did that come from?”
“Hawaii.”
Her eyes went straight to the shipping label.
“Leave it, Annie.”
“What?”
“Just leave it.”
“Mom, it’s addressed to Dad.”
“I can see that.”
“Someone sent this before the accident. They might be waiting to hear from him.”
She put the cards down.
“Throw it away.”
I stared at her.
“Are you serious?”
“Please.”
She crossed the kitchen and grabbed my wrist.
“Throw it away. Let’s pretend it never came.”
