No Reason and Every Reason to be Mad
“Are you sad?” I ask, because I see his face when I enter.
“Yah.” And he shakes his head like he’s not sure, like there’s some more macabre set of feelings he’d like to express. Like he restrains himself. Like I do.
“What are you sad about?” I say in my most calm, daughter, non-druggie, loving, rational voice.
“You and me. Char and me. The Broncos.”
“Well you don’t have to worry about you and me,” I say.
“I just can’t take it anymore.”
“It will get better,” I offer.
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
And I leave with Lacey, try to escape from the mess. It’s what I’ve learned to do. It’s the only thing I know how.