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“Not a whole lot youcando, other than keep the lines of communication open.”
“My father isn’t the easiest person in the world to communicate with.”
“No, I get that. If you don’t mind my saying, he sounds like one miserable son of a bitch.”
“He certainly can be.”
“So maybe they deserve each other.”
I smiled through the tears that were suddenly filling my eyes.
“That being said,” Roger continued, his hand extending toward my face, his fingers gently wiping away the tears now sliding down my cheeks, “youdefinitely deserve better.”
I nodded. “Unfortunately, we don’t get to choose our parents.”
“I’m not talking about your father.”
“Whatareyou talking about?” I asked, although I already knew what he was going to say.
“Why isn’t your husband here? What’s he doing at some writers’ festival on the other side of the country? Your mother just died, for God’s sake. You’re in obvious pain. He should be here for you.”
“You’re here,” I said, my hand reaching for his.
This time I made no attempt to hold myself back.
