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familiarity. I closed my eyes, but for some reason, all I could think about was my baby sister. I remembered. Today was the twenty-second anniversary of her, and her baby girl’s, my niece’s, untimely death. A few months before that, she and I had a conversation I’ll never forget. It went something like this.
    “Makkai, do you hear that?” her youthful, thirteen-year-old voice whispered from the lower bunk as though she were hearing things.
    “Yes, I hear it,” I spoke downward toward my baby sister.
    She was snuggled under the denim blue comforter, tucked in to just under her china doll chin. “I can’t sleep.”
    I slept on top of the covers, lying on my stomach, feet hanging off the twin bed. “Just relax. You’ll be fine. You’ll doze off in no time.” I leaned down to get a night-light view of her.
    Suddenly, my young ears filled with a loud, yet garbled sentence spoken by my mother.
    “What’s going on with Mama?” Fonda was curled up in a fetal position.
    I looked toward the door. “She’s obviously upset.”
    Mom ranted boisterously, “Don’t you ever call this house again.” And then instantly, her tone downshifted. “I don’t need you to tell me anything. That’s between my husband and me.”
    Three long seconds went by and the sound of a receiver slammed to its base took over.
    Fonda simply spoke. “Makkai, Daddy is weird.”
    “Why do you say that?”
    “He just is.” She turned over to lie on her back, resting her hand over her swollen belly. By this time, my baby sister was well into her pregnancy.
    “He’s gone so much that it’s hard to figure him out. But, I know that he breaks Mom’s heart by not being around.”
    “He’s not true to her, is he?”
    “I don’t think so, Fonda. But, you don’t need to be worrying about anything. You just need to take care of yourself so that baby can stay in there as long as possible.”
    She played mute. “I like it when Dad’s not here.”
    “Corrine, I’m home.” Dad slammed the back screen door. Fonda jumped, and then resumed her fetal position.
    Mom spoke to accompany the sound of her own sturdy, fast-paced footsteps. “Roosevelt, one of your little floozies just called here. I’m not taking this too much longer.”
    “Oh, woman, that’s somebody just trying to start some stuff. I told you misery loves company. And I’m telling you again to stop listening to all of that stuff.”
    “Where were you?” It seemed as though she was purposely clanging pots and pans.
    “I was driving that rig all the way from D.C. to back down this way. I’m exhausted and in no mood for this nonsense in my own house. Now, what’s for dinner?”
    Mom sounded different. “Nothing. You missed dinner. It’s one in the morning.”
    “Next time, you need to put something in the icebox for me. I keep telling you that, woman.”
    She spoke with a tight jaw. “There won’t be a next time, so you don’t have to worry about me doing anything for you ever again.”
    “You are really talking trash tonight, woman. You’ll snap out of it. You’re not going anywhere.”
    Fonda spoke with reserve while they continued their verbal sparring. “Makkai, don’t go to sleep tonight. Let’s just talk until the sun comes up. Please.”
    “Hey, what are you two doing up?” Dad asked after the door creaked like the sound of an intruderentering a dark room in a horror movie. “Go to sleep, Makkai.”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “Good night, Fonda.”
    She gave a soft-spoken, “Good night.”
    Dad turned his right ear in her direction. “What? I didn’t hear you.”
    “I said good night.”
    “All right, then.”
    As the faint bit of light faded, Fonda and I then heard their bedroom door close.
    She still whispered. “Please, Makkai.”
    “Okay, Fonda. But, we have to keep it down. What do you want to talk about?”
    “Anything. Just keep talking. That way, I’ll know you’re watching over me.”
    In an instant, my reflections halted into reality. It