Each month, write a new collection.
My dad knew something was up as he handed a stack of plates to Kiera and set linen and utensils on top of them as I sulked at the breakfast counter. Dad motioned toward the sliding doors off the kitchen. “Why don’t you arrange these on the table out back? Phelan will be right behind you with the glassware.”She smiled and thanked him for opening the door. Dad slid it closed behind her and removed four matching glasses from the cupboard. He set them in my arms.“Before you take these out back I just want to remind you of one thing we learned while studying Shakespeare. Remember what Polonius said. “This above all: to thine own self be true.”The words held meaning for me as I considered all the stomach aches and facial acne I endured over the past few weeks, as well as stilted conversation and supporting the pretense of a life that wasn’t my own. My mom had one of those tiny smiles, proud but trying to hold back. She knew—they both knew—that I’d do the right thing.I started toward the sliding door and before my dad opened it for me, I said to my parents, “And it must follow, as the night the day, thou canst not then be false to any man.” I stepped outside and Kiera waited at the patio table, frowning.But it didn’t matter.