My Son Brought

many flannel shirts. Caleb made sarcastic comments until I laughed so hard soup almost came out of my nose.

At nine-thirty, my phone lit up again after I turned it back on.

Seventeen missed calls.

Nine text messages.

I read none of them.

Caleb noticed.

“You can answer,” he said.

“No.”

“It’s okay.”

“No, it isn’t.”

He studied me carefully, as if trying to figure continue reading …