My Grandfather Asked Why I Was Walking With My Baby

in his sleep, and something inside me broke open.

“I don’t have the Cadillac,” I whispered.

My grandfather’s face changed.

“What do you mean you don’t have it?”

I looked down at the bicycle.

“Lauren drives it,” I said. “I only have this.”

For a moment, the whole street felt silent.

My grandfather did not shout. He did not curse. He did not ask me if I was continue reading …