27LucianaMy mother and I had eventually gone downstairs. Thunder was bustling around the kitchen like a maid or a mother hen. It was actually kind of endearing and I cracked a smile. He’d made coffee—way too strong, even with milk and sugar—but that was okay. It was warm and soothed me more through the mug in my hand rather than for its contents.
We were seated at the table, my mother across from me. She hadn’t said anything for a long while, her eyes glazed over as she stared off into the distance. Her mug sat on the table, untouched, already getting cold. I was on my second cup and Thunder’s was half drank sitting on the table corner off to the side.
I wondered why he stayed, though part of me already knew.
“How’s Becky?” I asked, because the silence was starting to get to me. I didn’
