"How's your mother?" Mr. Dupuis would say next, turning to Mitz, and Mitz knew to brace herself for what was coming.
Andrea smiled at both of them, and then, to Mitz's shock, she began to cry.
Nothing about him belonged to Mitz, or ever had; she wasn't the one coming undone.
When they were growing up, Georgette's house was different from Mitz's — smaller, for one thing, but to Mitz's mind superior for, among other things, its interesting modular furniture, its two Persian cats, its carpeted basement.
He took an inexplicable liking to Mitz after his first visit, one of a handful over the years.
Did he say something?" And though Donna's quick, even delivery signalled to Mitz that she could respond as she chose and not be attached in Donna's mind to anything the man had or hadn't done (and Mitz felt more confused about this now, about what the word "happened" might contain if she were to peer into it — a scant, uncategorizable film at the bottom of a bucket), she answered, "No".
But since the idea occurred to her Mitz has felt better about something — exhilarated, even.
She reaches to touch Mitz on the arm, and lets her fingers rest there.
As she bends down to look, Mitz bites the inner flesh of her mouth and smiles at once.
"Does she need to talk to them, too?" Mr. Frederick said to Donna, indicating Mitz.
