My parents’ house was only five minutes from my duplex, the long way, and I found myself there much sooner than I liked. Once in my parents’ driveway, I sat for a few moments admiring my mother’s cosmos and snapdragons and gathering my strength.

The front door to the ranch sprang open, and my father flew down the ramp in his titanium wheelchair. “India, stop moping in that heap of metal and greet your poor old dad.”

I slipped out of the car. “Happy Belated Fourth, Dad.” I leaned down to kiss his cheek. “Are Carmen and Chip here already?”

“That they are, my girl. Don’t tell her I told you so, but your sister is as big as a triple-wide trailer.”

I laughed. “No promises.”

He made a three-point turn and sailed up the ramp with little effort. Before the accident, my father was an active man, an avid jogger and recreational athlete. His thin runner’s body was long gone, now replaced by the thick chest and broad shoulders of a wheelchair racer.

I trudged up the ramp, dreading with each step my mother’s unavoidable questions about Olivia. Her first concern would be how all this affected Mark. She would look to me for answers. I couldn’t blame her because I knew we were all wondering the same thing. “Will Mark have a relapse?”