Daniel called on a Wednesday morning.
He said he wanted to visit. Not to cause trouble, he said quickly, in the way he said things when he was worried about the reaction before he had even finished the sentence. Just to see me. Just to see for himself that I was all right.
I told him to come Saturday.
I told Damien that evening.
We were in the kitchen after dinner. Helena had gone to bed. The house was in its quiet evening mode and we were doing what we had been doing most evenings lately, existing in the same space without requiring anything particular of each other. Him with something he was reading. Me with my book.
I had been noticing how easy that had become.
"My brother is coming Saturday," I said.
He looked up.
"He wants to see me," I said. "And I think he wants to see you."
