Chapter 17
Later that night, we all attend midnight Mass downtown at St. Thomas’s Episcopal Church in Trinity Park.
Everyone except my father, that is. “The dog and I are comfortably fine sitting here in front of the fire,” he says.
At the church, Philip and his mother walk up the marble stairs to the red front doors, his father trailing closely behind, adjusting the blue silk checkered scarf around his neck and yanking the collar on his wool jacket, holding it closed against the sharp chill. I wait outside with my mother. I wave at Philip to let him know we will join them shortly. As wisps of snowflakes fly around us, I ask my mother, “Is there something you’re not telling me about Dad?”
She looks dumbfounded, her face wrinkled in question. A muscle in her bottom lip twitches. “No. Wh
