I raised her mostly alone. Her father, Henry, worked as a bus mechanic until his lungs started giving out. When he passed, Lenora was seventeen and angry at the whole world.
After Henry’s funeral, I took every job I could find. I cleaned classrooms, folded sheets at a motel, sold sweet rolls on Saturdays. Every dollar had a place: rent, light bill, Lenora’s shoes, dentist, school trip, winter coat.
I wore the same black dress to three weddings.