handed it back.
“Are we going?”
“No.”
“Did Dad ask us to?”
“Yes.”
Elliot just nodded.
“Okay.”
For weeks after Daniel left, Elliot became even quieter.
I found him looking through old photo albums.
He asked where I kept old birthday cards.
School drawings.
Report cards.
Hospital bracelets.
I thought he was grieving.
Only later did I understand.
He had been gathering something.
On the morning of Daniel and Claire’s wedding, I made chocolate-chip pancakes.
I wanted an ordinary Saturday.
The younger boys built a blanket fort.
We picked movies.
