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“I’m glad you were both able to join me.” I pressed my palms to the kitchen table to keep my hands from shaking.
My parents sat opposite me, filling Mom’s tiny linoleum kitchen to bursting. Mom cradled her coffee and looked ready to fall back asleep in her comfy sweater. Dad had arrived in his work suit like he’d been up for hours.
They both stared at me for a long moment until I remembered I was the one who was supposed to be talking.
“I know last week was really rough,” I said, “and I want to thank you for being so supportive.”
“We love you, Bryant,” Mom said.
“I’m finding it hard to be supportive of your coming home with new scars every two days.” Dad laced his fingers together with his hands planted on the table like we were in some sort of business negotiation.
“I did start o
