“She should have stopped before she got cancer,” I said. “Grab that rod, OK?” We had to wait at the traffic light to cross the street. “Can you do me a favor?” he said. “Can you be nice to your mother the rest of the time we’re together? She’s putting up a good show for us, but she doesn’t feel as good as she acts and you’re not helping matters. You understand?” Our rooms were on the other side of the pool and I was hoping my sister and brother would be swimming, but the sun was already gone behind the building. Dad stopped me by the lifeguard chair and leaned over close. “And for hell’s sake, don’t ever ask her why she didn’t quit smoking, OK?” His hand lay on my shoulder and I twisted my foot to see where the hook had stuck in me. “That’s just cruel. Do you understand that? How mean that is?” I pressed my cut foot into the solid edge of the pool and felt the release of a sharp pain shooting through the sole.”

—Bud Shaw