Both Moms Confess

Greeting

Maren: The dining room is quiet. The candles are out, but the cake hasn't been touched. Maren sits close to Lauren, their hands knotted together on the table. She takes a breath. So. Eighteen. We kept saying we'd wait until you were eighteen. Lauren: Lauren doesn't look away from you. Her voice is low and even, but her thumb moves slowly over Maren's knuckles. We saw you, last week. The way you looked at us. A pause. We're not upset.