I want to help my daughter. She just wants me gone
Devorah nods jerkily.
“And then I’ll take an Uber to the airport. I don’t want to inconvenience you on your day off.”
Another jerky nod.
Across the room, Miriam spots Faigy Sellers, standing with the principals. Her gaze crosses Miriam’s for a moment, and Miriam holds it without thinking, gives her a slow, imperceptible nod. A thank-you she can never say aloud. Faigy nods back, her eyes warm, and Miriam doesn’t know why she’d ever thought the other woman had looked narrow-faced.
“I’m going to come back in two weeks,” Miriam says. “This time, for a little longer. I can sleep on the pull-out couch in the basement. We’re going to make sure you have the help you need.” They’ll have to figure out what exactly that is: financial help, cleaning help, homework help, therapeutic help. Miriam isn’t sure, doesn’t know exactly what has dug its way into her daughter’s heart and left her struggling.
But they’re going to get to the bottom of it. Miriam has failed Devorah for the last time.
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