Carol stopped in front of the crate with a grocery bag in one hand. “Do you know Mrs. Donnelly saw me at Kroger and asked where you were? I had to tell her you were sick. Do you enjoy making me lie for you?”
Lily stared at her in disbelief.
Carol took a container of applesauce from the bag and peeled back the lid. “Open.”
Lily did not move.
Carol’s eyes hardened. “Open your mouth.”
Something inside Lily recoiled. The command was too much like feeding an animal. Too much like surrender.
“I can do it,” she said.
Carol sighed theatrically and shoved the container through the bars. “You always make everything more difficult.”
Lily grabbed it, fingers trembling.
Carol crouched. “Let me explain something because you don’t seem to understand how lucky you are. Most women would not tolerate the level of disrespect you bring into this house. I have tried to be patient. I have tried to teach you manners. I have tried to help your father raise a child who thinks grief excuses every ugly little impulse.”
Lily whispered, “I’m not ugly.”
Carol’s face went still.
Then, very softly, she said, “By Monday, you will know better.”
She stood and walked away.
Lily sat motionless long after the footsteps faded.
