Parents
I open the top drawer, my heart pounding. A row of file folders, alternating blue and gray, all neatly labeled. Clippings, Documents, Letters...I stop, about to pull out the Letters file, but then I notice the next file: Lou. The skin on the back of my neck prickles, and I shiver. I raise my hand to life out the file and, just as my fingers touch it, I hear my mother's key in the lock.
Every hand I shake, I look into the person's face and wonder what they know. It didn't say in the announcement in the paper. Maybe they think my dad had a heart attack while he was driving. I don't want anyone to know. Because it's not like we really know for sure. I don't want people talking about him and thinking he did something when nobody knows for sure that he did.
