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“What did you have for dinner?” Henley asks.
“They haven’t fed me yet.”
I look over to the empty dinner plates on the table that are still waiting to be collected.
“You would have had dinner, Dad. You just forgot,” Henley tells him.
“Nope. I’m starving. Put your mother on the phone.”
“She’s busy right now.”
“Is she coming to get me or not?” he snaps.
“Soon,” Henley says.
I smile. He’s so patient with him.
“I love you, Dad,” Henley says softly.
My heart constricts.
Mr. James nods but doesn’t reply.
“Say it back,” I whisper.
“Huh?”
“Say it back,” I repeat.
“Say what back?” he grumbles.
Fuck’s sake . . .
“I’ll let you go,” Henley says.
“You go back to school, Hen. Be a good boy now. We’ll build something when you get home.”
“Okay. Sounds good.”
I smile as I listen.
“Bye, Dad.” The phone goes dead as he hangs up.
I slouch onto the bed, disappointed that Henley didn’t get his I love you back. Which is ridiculous because, I mean, why should I even care?
He and I are in the world’s most fucked-up relationship. He hasn’t called me since he left in a huff the other night, and the sick thing is, I don’t expect him to.
It’s like I’m becoming accustomed to dysfunction and am now even expecting it.
I’ll give us another couple of weeks, and then I have to decide where we go from here.
Nothing is ever easy, is it?
Thursday morning I stretch for my run. “Morning, Carol,” I call.
“Good morning, dear.” Carol smiles as she walks across the street toward me. “Beautiful day, isn’t it?”
“Sure is.”
