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“No, no, and no. And now we’re going to go upstairs, shower, and go to bed.” Nose to nose, we stare into each other’s eyes. I can tell he really means this is the end of the discussion. He won’t answer any more questions. He won’t give me more than he already has. Maybe ever. He waits silently as I wrestle with dueling desires to let it go and see where time takes us or get up and walk out of his house and his life for good. Instead of either of those choices, I lob the tennis ball back onto his side of the court. “Okay. I believe you. And I’ll leave it alone for now. But here’s something I want you to think about, especially in light of what happened Friday night and the things you apologized for afterward, namely things you weren’t proud of like slamming doors and raising your voice
- Writer
