That evening, Dad and I sit on the porch together. I’ve spent days thinking about my parents, and after witnessing firsthand the nightmarish culmination of my mother’s carelessness, I have questions that have to be asked. My dad may not know about Aldo, but he sure as hell knows who my mother is at this point. He sees the way she behaves, and I can tell he doesn’t approve. I’m not even sure he likes her all that much. So, why? Why continue to put up with her? “Daddy, can I talk to you a little more about Mom?” His smile bears a sadness even his dimples can’t erase. “Of course, sweetheart. You can always talk to me about anything.” “I can’t help but ask myself why you stick around. Don’t you think, if you guys aren’t happy together, that you’d be better off separating?” I’d love for my pare
