I stood by the counter for a full minute, listening to the drip of the kitchen faucet and the distant sound of a speedboat on the lake. The pain in my back was a steady, warm pressure now, a reminder of every time I had lost my footing on these old pine floors.
The living room had the old cream-colored Monopoly board on the coffee table, three of its wooden houses missing from the green pile in the center.
I sat on the edge of the sofa, trying not to let my spine touch the cushions because the heat in my lower back had turned into a dull, throbbing ache that made my legs feel heavy.
Caroline, my aunt, sat opposite me in the green armchair, holding her phone tightly in both hands as she watched me try to adjust my position. She always held her phone that way when she was visiting us, as if it were a shield against the rest of the house.
“You are sitting like you are ninety, Olivia,” Caroline said, her voice direct and brief. “Did you hurt yourself carrying those groceries in from the car?”
