Someone is at my door. I just push my face deeper into the pillow. I know it is my father. He will give up and leave after a few minutes. He is the only person who knocks this early on a Sunday. He must be on his way to church.
I do not get why he still goes. God did not save his wife. My mother died right there in that car, and his God did nothing to help her.
I do not mean to, but I listen for the sound of his car pulling away. A hard, painful feeling forms in my stomach. I make my hands into fists on the sheets. He is going to church. He will pray to a God who never listens.
When I can no longer hear the engine, I get out of bed. I walk out of my room at the exact same moment Anderson steps out of his. We look at each other.
"Hi," I say.
