My mother fell into shock to see me home at this hour. She reached for me, sensing I was in an agitated condition. I clasped the hands she held out, “Mother, where is he?”
“Myko, you’re hurting me,” she said, “let me go.”
I looked down at my mother’s thin hands, bony and veined from knuckle to wrist. “Tell me where he has gone. I need to know.”
My mother did not answer. She only stared into my eyes.
I let go of her hands and she tucked them beneath her arms, building a barrier between us. “Myko, what is it? What has happened to you?” Over and over she pressed me, “Tell me, Myko, I am your mother.”
I would not answer her. My mind was filled with panic and rage and I had no time to play the game of mother and dutiful son. My father would not be upon the land so soon after his return. He
