I don't remember his face or the place we ate. I only remember how he grabbed my hand and his voice when he spoke of his dad.

IN the book of my heart, pages keep falling out, many of them marked Mom and Dad.

I want to tell him that it's just a stupid car, but bits of me are scattered all over town; the graveyard, school, Cassie's room, the motel, and standing in from of the sink in my mother's kitchen. It takes too much energy to gather all the bits together, so I just sit there and watch him implode.

My mum and dad had worked incredibly hard to afford me an education.