Judging by the relatively low poundage level of Mom’s jewelry, I would guess they’re going to a casual event. Also, Dad’s wearing this leather jacket Mom talked him into buying, which they think of as casual, even though it costs as much as some cars. I try to arrange my features so I don’t look as bad as I feel. “Hi, sweetheart!” Mom says. They stop to give me a few minutes of face time before they take off for the rest of the evening. “Sorry we have to leave,” Dad says. “Business meeting.” Since Michael died, it’s almost as if they feel guilty about going out all the time. Not guilty enough to stop doing it, but guilty enough to apologize for it, anyway. “How are you doing, honey?” Mom’s using a fake-sounding syrupy voice that makes me want to kick over a lawn chair. “Same,” I say. “All right, then.” They wait another moment, just in case I might burst out with a confession or two.
