When I arrived home, it was well after ten. I found Vic’s car at the back of the house, heat still rising from the hood, and I knew he couldn’t have been home for very long though the place was as quiet as a tomb inside.
It didn’t surprise me that Vic’s Flora would be in bed, Vic’s mother was always in bed by nine. She was a sweet woman, even if she did have a laugh like a cartoon witch. My brother Jonathan, on the other hand, kept erratic hours. Though I couldn’t deny he was getting better. He had finally started eating—was always hungry, actually. And, while he was quieter than before, when he wasn’t completely absorbed in reading, he’d started to talk and even make eye contact.
Upstairs, I found Vic; his hair was wet from the shower.
“Sorry I missed dinner with Lee and Grant again.”
