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heat control, mostly because
it gives my hands something
to do besides tremble. By some
unspoken agreement, neither
of us says a word until we’re
well on our way out of town.
THE HIGHWAY IS MOSTLY CLEAR
But Grandpa drives cautiously.
Have to be careful of black ice,
is his explanation. It is all he says
for a while. But finally he broaches
the necessary inquiry. So we
hadn’t expected you this year.
And Kristina didn’t know you were
coming either. He pauses. Waits.
“It was a last-minute decision,”
I try. “We wanted to surprise you.”
You definitely did that. His voice
is gentle, tinged with humor. And
you surprised everyone else, too.
We called your dad’s to let him know
you were
okay. Someone named
Kortni answered. She said your father
was in jail and as far as she knew,
you were in a foster home in Fresno.
He lets the weight of his words sink
down around us. Was she wrong?
OBVIOUSLY HE KNOWS
She wasn’t wrong. And I’m just
