Sometimes I can remember a lot about Mom and other times I can’t exactly get her face right. How she held her mouth when she called me Sweetpea.

The pale gray sky is a stark backdrop to the bright sand slopes, tufts of grass sprouting like the sketchy beard on a 15-year-old. Derek puts his arm around me and I relax against his chest. He digs in his pocket for two white tablets. Great for sex, he says.

LEGACY BY JUDY L MANDEL 34THPARALLEL MAGAZINE ISSUE 37

After the divorce, when I was three, Mom a…