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.