He ran his finger over the chipped rose.
“He knew what this meant to you,” he said.
It was the first judgmental thing I’d heard him say about Brian since the divorce began.
“Yes,” I said.
Dad stood up. His knees cracked again.
“Did you photograph this?”
“Yes.”
“The faucets? The walls? Everything he ruined in this house?”
Ezoic
“Everything. Claire made me take a video too.”
He nodded slowly.
“Good.”
Something about his expression made me uneasy. He was looking past me, at the hole by the fireplace, and his jaw was set in a way I didn’t recognize. Like he’d made up his mind about something.
“What?” I said.
“Nothing.”
“Dad.”
He looked at me.
“Do exactly what Claire tells you,” he said. “Don’t worry about me.”
“Why would I worry about you?”
But he didn’t answer. He just went out to his truck and came back with a broom, a dustpan, and a cardboard box. He set them by the door.
