LEIGH
"Who was that?" I asked Claire. She had been talking on the phone since we got off the minivan.
"My mom, she said my father came over, and he wants to talk with me." She quietly said while we were around the pedestrian promenade, walking side by side behind dad, Susan, and an enthusiastic Julian, snapping pictures with his phone.
"There's a phone these days. He can call." I point out.
"That's what I say."
Over the past year, I have learned a lot about Claire, just as she does me. Last year Thanksgiving, I spent with her family, just like she followed me here this summer. That man who wanted to talk now had been nothing but a drunk; he walked out on his family when his situation only became worst, it was rough at first, but eventually, things shifted after he departed. His you
