He jumped out before the engine was even fully off, one pharmacy bag still hanging from his hand. Then he saw me.
My face.
My hair.
The suitcase at my feet.
The newborn.
The way I could not stand up straight.
He went white first.
Then still.
He came toward me and asked what happened, but I only managed three words.
They kicked me out.
Matthew looked at me for one second longer. Then he slowly raised his eyes toward the apartment door, where my mother, my father, and Danielle were all still standing there as if nothing monstrous had happened.
I expected shouting.
I expected rage.
