Chapter Thirteen
David and I stir-fried chicken, along with broccoli and carrots we cut into matchsticks. He told me about his day in school. He smiled and laughed. I listened. We sat at the counter and ate together. I liked hearing about his friends. For a long while, Hayword and I had been worried that he didn’t have any. His friends now seemed so engaged in the world. David, too. I hoped it wasn’t all too much for them. I didn’t hang onto that thought. I loved being with my son. It was just the two of us. I was OK with that. I didn’t think about Alberto not being there, or about Fern being a drug addict. It was just me and my boy.
When we had almost finished eating, David said, “You drank on Sunday, didn’t you? I’m not mad at you. I just want to know.”
“I did,” I said.
“Do you know
