Forty-One: JaredAs predicted, my mom had a meatloaf waiting for lunch when I hobbled into the house.
“No thanks. I'm not hungry.” I could hear a game of some kind on the television in the next room, and all I wanted to do was escape.
“Jared. Please eat.”
“Sorry if what you want isn't real concerning for me right now, Mom.” The tone felt foreign on my tongue. In my house, talking back to my mother was not usually tolerated. Today wasn't usual, I guessed. Her eyes filled with tears, but I couldn't feel bad about it.
“I'm sorry,” she whispered.
“Yeah, me too.” I managed my way down the hall to the guest room since I had been camping out there for the time being. Going up and down stairs with crutches required a bit more daring than I had at the moment. I lay out uncomfortably on the bed,
