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Dad materializes beside me,
takes the phone, calmly says,
Kristina isn’t here, Ron.
If you can’t find her, that’s
too bad, but it’s really not
our concern. What does concern
me is your ruining our holiday.
I’m going to hang up now.
Don’t call back. Today or ever.
Dad follows through, hangs
up, and that might be that except
around here, nothing ever is.
A LOUD GASP
On the stairs makes Dad
and me wheel in unison. Donald.
Was that my dad? he shouts.
Why didn’t you let me talk to him?
My dad remains calm. Your father
didn’t ask to talk to you, Donald.
So? I wanted to talk to him.
You can’t keep me away from him.
Dad’s voice rises, ever so slightly.
No one’s trying to keep you away—
Yes, you are. I hate you. I hate
it here. I want to go home….
The poor kid totally breaks
down. Please. Let me go home.
Dad drops his voice a notch.
Look, son, you can’t go back there.
Liftoff again. Shut up. Shut up.
