He walked to my porch and knocked once.
I opened the door but did not invite him in.
Without the audience from the birthday party, he looked younger.
His shoulders curved inward, and his eyes kept moving toward the adults behind me.
“Dad said you took the car,” he muttered.
“I did not take it.
The lender did.”
“He said you canceled everything because of me.”
“I canceled my involvement because the adults lied about the loan.
What you did showed me how they spoke about me when I was not in the room.”
His face flushed.
“I was joking.”
“Who was supposed to laugh?”
He did not answer.
“You poured a drink on someone who had just lost a child and used her grief as entertainment.
That is not a joke.
It is a choice.”
Behind me, Irene snapped, “He came to apologize.
Don’t interrogate him.”
Tyler looked back at her, then at me.
