The Center of Another Bed

That night, Veronica lay in the center of her parents’ bed half-asleep. Her parents were holed up in their bathroom. Veronica could hear every word.

“Well, she certainly is grieving,” Mr. Morgan said after hearing his wife explain what had happened at the party he did not attend.

“But what are we going to do?” Mrs. Morgan said, whispering. “We have to do something.”

“I think she needs to talk more about processing her feelings. For a start.”

“She doesn’t want to,” Mrs. Morgan said. “We ask her constantly to process. She won’t.”

“Tough,” Mr. Morgan said. “And she is going to have to apologize to that girl.”

“But I thought she was grieving so wonderfully. I thought she was doing so well. She acted out at school by not doing that project. She had his ashes, the letter from Esme, she sat a shiva…”

“She just needs some help, Marion. Her teacher told us as much. We obviously are not helping her.”

“No, we’re not,” Mrs. Morgan said, and burst into tears.