Jessica called on Sunday, which meant she'd already talked to their mother, which meant whatever this conversation was going to be, it was arriving with reinforcements he hadn't agreed to.
"Mom says you sound weird," Jessica said, by way of hello, the particular bluntness she'd had since she was nine years old and had never once considered softening for anyone's comfort, least of all his. "Weird how, I asked. She said, and I quote, he sounds like he's carrying something and won't put it down. Which, frankly, is unusually poetic for Mom, so either she's been reading again or you actually sound bad enough that even she noticed over a four-minute phone call about Thanksgiving logistics."
"I sound fine."
"You sound like a man doing an impression of himself sounding fine, which is worse, bec
