He’d shaved. He was wearing a clean blue shirt. He’d lost weight. I could see it in his face, in the way his collar sat loose around his neck. He was holding a small paper bag.
My dad opened the door. The two of them looked at each other on the step for a long moment.
“Mr. Sanders,” Ben said quietly. “Thank you for letting me in.”
“I didn’t let you in,” my dad said. “She did. Don’t make me regret it.”“I won’t, sir.”
My dad stepped aside.
Ben came into the living room. I was sitting on the couch with Evelyn in my arms. She was awake. She’d just finished eating, and she was in that milk-drunk, dreamy state, blinking slowly at the ceiling light.
Ben stopped in the middle of the room. He didn’t come any closer.
“Hi,” he said.
