Page 159 of Roadrunner

“What’s there to talk about?”

“What you do next time,” Riley said. “Words, you walk. Hands, you get an adult and you don’t stand there hoping the desert swallows him. You don’t become him either.”

Arthur thought about that.

“Okay.”

“And you tell us,” Riley said. “Same day. Not when an email beats you home.”

“Okay.”

They did the packet.

I watched Riley’s finger on the page, patient, not performing.

Arthur’s shoulder dropped a fraction.

I thought about every conference my parents had missed by being in a country with better light.

I didn’t say that.

I put two plates down and let the kitchen be a kitchen.

Some assessments don’t need an audience.

The right person already made the decision.

I just had to live in the house where that was true.

CHAPTER SIXTY-SIX

Alex

Now

Friday.

Pizza box on the coffee table like it had always lived there.

Arthur claimed the left end of the couch the way he claimed everything now. As if the furniture had been waiting for his exact length.

Riley took the middle.

I took the rest and the extra heat that didn’t belong to the room.

The movie was something with explosions that explained themselves.

Nobody asked what it was called.

Arthur narrated anyway.

“That’s not how guns work,” he said.

“It’s a movie,” Riley said.

“It’s still not how guns work. He shot 41 times. I counted. He has a 30-round magazine.”

Riley passed him the remote without looking.