Even dead, I was mad at June. It’s one thing to go through my things; it’s another to put it all out on display like some coffee-table book. It was an age-old battle with June—me wanting to keep some part of myself to myself, her taking personal offense when she wasn’t invited into everything in my life.

I can only imagine what she thought when she found those photos, the hurt and confusion she’s probably carrying around with her. For me, as I watched her, there was relief in the fact that I wouldn’t actually have to deal with it or answer her questions, but also desperate guilt. I would never get a chance to explain myself and make her feel better.

Although, seeing her with Ezra, it didn’t look like much was bothering her. Even when he asked her about her book, she took it in stride. That used to be a taboo subject. After the girls arrived on the scene, June just stopped writing. It was as though she couldn’t be both, mother and writer, and since she had no choice about the mother part, she had to let the writer part go.

I thought she’d given up too easily, but I would never have said that to her. I actually appreciated Ezra’s fury at June’s idea of being a failure. I could never have said it to her, so I’m glad he did.

Watching them dance earlier brought back a memory of my mother and West dancing to that very same song—“Blackbird” by the Beatles. I was around twelve. It was in the middle of the summer, when the heat held on through the day and night, refusing to budge even though the sun had disappeared. I couldn’t sleep and went looking for my mother to fix it for me. A mistake I’d never make again.

Tiptoeing down the stairs, I heard music playing softly and the murmur of voices. I stayed within the cover of the staircase and peeked around so I could see the living room. The song “Blackbird” was playing, and my mother was in West’s arms. They swayed back and forth and spoke in low voices, my mother looking up at him. While I was watching, West said something, and she threw her head back and laughed deeply, all of her white teeth on display. She was wearing a strapless sundress and he wore a tank top. In my child’s mind they might just as well have been naked with all that skin almost touching, shiny with sweat from the heat.