Sugar felt the storm coming. It was late. Her daddy was out, again. Earlier, Grace made Suzan a final scotch to get her back up to bed.
When Phinizy drove in, the household flinched. He tiptoed into the bedroom when she started right in on him.
“Where have you been – again?”
Phinizy slammed the front door and drove off.
“Why do they always fight? Is it because of … me?” Sugar asked Grace as they hugged under their quilt in her bed.
“No, Sugar. It’s not you. It’s never you. It’s always …”
“What?” Sugar asked. “Who?”
“Her. Always her.”