I remembered the things I had said in the courtroom. I remembered the things I had said to Anthony. I wondered if he had heard me. I wondered if he would ever hear me again.
My parents’ car pulled into the driveway. I went inside with them. We sat at the kitchen table. My mother put the kettle on the stove. My father put sugar into his coffee. He stirred the coffee with his finger. He was wearing a suit and tie. He had come straight from work.
“You look nice,” I said.
He shrugged.
My mother poured three teas. She put the teapot on the table. She sat down.
“Aren’t you going to have some tea?” she asked.
My father shook his head.
“I’m not thirsty,” he said.
My mother sipped her tea. She looked at the clock above the sink. She looked at me.
“Aren’t you going to say something?” she asked.
“What do you want me to say?” I asked.
“I don’t know. Something.”
“All right. Let me think.”
I stared at my mother. She was wearing a dress and a sweater and a pair of gray stockings. Her hair was fixed in the same way it had been fixed when I was younger. I knew she hadn’t slept well. I knew she had been wondering…
