“I know,” Joan said. “I’ll miss her, but I’ll be okay. I’m just…”

“They’re shitty parents,” Vanessa said finally.

Joan looked at her, shocked.

“You talk around it,” Vanessa said. “Even your mother seems to know it but is unable to say it. But just say it. It’s shitty, what Barb and Daniel are doing.”

“Barb thinks it’s what’s best for Frances,” Joan said.

Vanessa frowned. “Do you think it’s what’s best for Frances?”

“Of course not.”

“Do you think if Barbara thought about it for one second, she would still think it’s best for Frances?”

Joan shook her head. “For some kids it would be a good idea. But if Barb were honest with herself, she would see that her child is acting out because she’s lonely and needs to feel cared about and pulled in. Not sent further away.”

“Exactly.”

“But I’m not Barbara,” Joan said. “At the end of the day, Frances is not my kid. She’s my niece.”

“Yes, but also, who cares what word you use? Some aunts are completely irrelevant, and some aunts have been there since the day their niece was born. I had one grandmother I never saw and one who, when she died, I cried for three days. The word isn’t what matters. It’s the specific relationship. You love that kid more than anything on this planet. She knows that. And that’s what matters.”

Joan nodded. “I don’t know how I’m going to say goodbye to her.”

“You’ll tell her what you have to. That you’ll be fine, even if you won’t. And she’ll be fine, even if you’re not sure. And that you’re always there.”

—

Joan went over that morning and had breakfast with Barbara, Daniel, and Frances. They were leaving in an hour to start the drive.

As Barbara and Daniel packed the car, Joan sat with Frances in her room.

“I’m in Clarefield Hall,” Frances said. She picked up the brochure she had from her first visit to campus. “You can see it in the background here.”

Frances pointed to a large brick dormitory behind what looked like a campus square.

“It’s the building all the girls want to be in,” Frances said. “Because it is next to the cafeteria and it’s the newest one, so it has individual bathrooms and more phone booths. That means I can call you anytime I want, I bet.”

Joan nodded. “It looks gorgeous.”

“My roommate’s name is Tabitha. She’s eleven. I think most of the other kids are eleven. Tabby and I decided we are going to pick out posters to hang up together. She likes Cyndi Lauper, too. So I think that will be cool.”

Joan kept watching her face, looking for signs of sadness that weren’t there.