CHAPTER 7
Dad doesn’t listen when I insist that I’m not hungry. Finally, I’m so exhausted from arguing with him that I give in, and he pours me a bowl of cereal.
I don’t bother to ask where Mom is. There are so many things I need to figure out.
“I have some work to do,” Dad says. “I’ll be in the office if you need anything.”
It’s the first time he’s mentioned that all-precious job of his, and somehow knowing that he’s still focused on something else outside of whatever trauma’s going on in my brain gives me a sense of relief. If I was in that bad of shape, he wouldn’t be thinking about work at all.
Would he?
Dad walks down the hall, up the stairs past the foyer, and when I hear the door to his home office click shut, I jump up from my chair. After tossing my soggy cereal into the sin
