For the next month, we barely spoke.
Not because I didn’t want to.
Because I wanted to too much.
Daniel noticed something was different.
One Saturday, while we were watching a game at my apartment, he said, “Mom asks about you.”
I kept my eyes on the television.
“She asks about everyone.”
“No, she doesn’t.”
I reached for my beer.
Daniel watched me.
“You two talked a lot that night, huh?”
“Your dad had just blown up his life.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
My stomach tightened. kh
I turned toward him.
“What are you asking?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then figure it out before you say something you can’t take back.”
