stops doing it.”
He sat down.
For several seconds, neither of us spoke.
Then he said quietly:
“We didn’t think you’d actually leave.”
“I know.”
“We thought you’d cool off.”
“I did.”
“And come back.”
“I didn’t.”
“Why?”
I looked out the window.
“Because when someone tells you they want you gone, you eventually have to believe them.”
Dad rubbed his hands together.
“We were angry.”
“So was I.”
“We didn’t mean forever.”
“You said forever.”
“We didn’t think.”
“That,” I said, “has been the problem for a long time.”
