No one interrupted.
He did not raise his voice.
He did not accuse Ryan.
Then Daniel said, “People don’t learn to apologize before they speak unless someone teaches them.”
Ryan shifted.
For the first time all day, he looked uncertain.
He did not accuse Ryan.
“She wasn’t like that when we met,” Ryan admitted.
Daniel turned to him.
“No.”
That was all.
But it opened something.
“She wasn’t like that when we met.”
Elaine looked down at the camera in her hands.
My oldest son stared at his father with a face I had never seen on him before.
And I knew what he was remembering.
Not one big thing.
Small ones.
I knew what he was remembering.
Ryan ordering for me because I “took forever.”
Him joking that I should skip dessert.
That long, heavy sigh when I spoke too long.
Praising Lucille’s body at the same table where I served his children dinner.
Him joking that I should skip dessert.
