“Then you’ll know what to do,” he said. “You’ve got a bag.”
She looked at the navy blue vinyl bag with the paper clip on the zipper, and for the first time all night something like a smile came and went at the corner of her mouth.
“I’m not putting my clothes in that thing,” she said. “It smells like 1998.”
“It smells like your mama,” Leon said, and then neither of them could talk for a while.
*
Glen Arden allowed family visits on the second Sunday. Tasha gave her father the address on the Saturday night before, written on the back of a receipt, and said, “Don’t make me sorry,” and he said, “I won’t.”