
Allegra Goodman Reads “The Last Grownup”
The New Yorker: The Writer's Voice - New Fiction from The New Yorker
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Love You. Bye, Mom.
Lily always said goodbye like that. They chirped on every occasion even when they called to say that carpool was late. The whole thing made her sad. She walked through the empty house and cleaned the girls' rooms. Becca declared, I always say love you to my kids because who knows what could happen? What if you were hit by a bus? Wouldn't you want your last words to be love you? Deborah said, not if it's just habit. Love you. Killed by a bus.
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