“We’re getting remarried,” she announced. You could tell she was trying to hide her excitement over the news, knowing that this was news that I didn’t want to hear. I didn’t react right away because I didn’t know how to react. Was I supposed to be selfless and say I was happy for her, and that this was going to be so great for the family? Was I supposed to be honest and say that I hated Tom? That I hated how he came home smelling like pot, how he thought he was so good at singing Elliott Smith’s “Needle in the Hay” when, in reality, his rendition made me want to kill myself tomorrow? “Olive?” she asked, filling the auditory blank where my response was supposed to go. I looked up from my dinner, a dreadful vegan dish that Trice made that was
