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No.
 
Her jaw tightens and she watches him, ears droop back against her head. Their distance is still great and she wonders if it will close, but who will make the first move? She does not realize the similarities in their journey along the way and she’s carried the blame for so long, she finally has a face to throw it back into.
 
“Everything fell apart after you left,” she says, her tense jaw snapping her teeth back together. Her shoulder rolls a bit and she watches him, unable to look away from him but she doesn’t want to see him in the ghastly memory she still holds. “You could have—should of—come home. You were there!” she tells him. She remembers. Seeing his face brings it searing back, fresh and hot like the day it happened. He’d looked a little different, and so did she, but they’d been family. They’d known, deep down, and as the hurt comes building back up she doesn’t know what to do with it and suddenly she does the only thing she knows how to: cut, and cut deep. “Mama died looking for you.”