On the Morning of My Son’s Wedding, Our Family Driver Locked Me in the Trunk and Covered Me With a Blanket

laughing about something, excited, ready to marry the woman he loved.

The woman he thinks he loves.

I stared at the open car door. At the blanket folded on the seat. At Frederick’s face — this man who had been family for fifteen years, who had never once lied to me.

I climbed in.

The dress caught on the doorframe. I bunched it up and folded myself into continue reading …