Maisie had already left by the time I finished. I loaded up two bowls of mac and cheese, an iceberg lettuce salad with ranch—hey…I was going the whole hog tonight! Maybe I’d find some Little Debbie for dessert—and two cans of Diet Pepsi and headed to Jack’s room.
I gently kicked at his closed bedroom door one, two, three times as my way of knocking. I affixed a smile to my face, believing if I was positive and upbeat, I would draw that energy to me.
“It’s open,” Jack called out, over what sounded like an old episode of Seinfeld.
“Yeah, but my hands are full. Can you open the door, please?” If Jack could walk around in the sleet in a light jacket with no apparent harm, he could certainly walk the four or five steps to his bedroom door. I waited, the seconds ticking by.
I was not at all
