Good Intentions (part 11)

Nana Lizzie followed. She blocked the bedroom doorway, shaking visibly, cheeks flushed. “What’re you doing?” she demanded. “You think you’re leaving?”

Julia continued throwing clothes into a suitcase.

“But,” Nana Lizzie sputtered, “haven’t I always taken good care of you, given you what you needed? Julia, please, my intentions have always been good. You know that.”

Julia twirled and glared at her grandmother. “I think your good intentions cost me my mom and dad.”

“That is so unfair.” Nana Lizzie’s palm connected with Julia’s cheek. She gasped, wide-eyed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”

Flesh stinging, tears running down her face, Julia picked up her cat and suitcase and pushed past her grandmother.

“Please,” Nana Lizzie called. “It can be different.” Her voice had never been so soft.

Yes it can, Julia thought, without slowing down. She opened the front door. And it starts with this.

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