He finally chose vanilla.
Denise stared at him.
“After all that?”
“Vanilla provides a neutral baseline.”
She looked at me.
“Has he always been like this?”
“Yes.”
“At three?”
“Worse.”
“I heard that,” Ethan said.
“You were supposed to.”
We pushed two tables together.
My parents had already left for home, giving me a quiet promise that we would speak that evening.
That left me, Ethan, Denise, and Jonathan.
A family shape nobody would have predicted that morning.
Ethan took three bites before beginning the interview he had promised.
“Question one.”
Denise put down her spoon.
“We’re doing this now?”
“Yes.”
Jonathan leaned back.
“This should be good.”
Ethan looked at Denise.
“Why didn’t you call on my birthdays?”
She stopped smiling.
“I did sometimes.”
“Three times.”
She nodded.
“You sent packages seven times.”
“Yes.”
“You posted every year.”
Denise lowered her eyes.
“Yes.”
“So why was posting easier than calling?”
