Melissa glanced down and smirked. “It was just sitting in that dusty old chest. I figured nobody was using it.”
Nobody.
The word cut through me like a blade.
Before I could answer, Brian shuffled in, barefoot, hair messy, still wearing yesterday’s wrinkled shirt.
“What’s with the suit?” he asked.
“I have appointments.”
He opened the refrigerator. “Can you make coffee?”
I looked at my son.
He did not look ashamed. He did not look sorry. He did not even seem aware that anything had happened.
That told me more than the dog bowl ever could.
“No,” I said.
Brian turned around slowly. “No?”
“No.”
Melissa gave a small laugh. “Wow. Still upset about the joke?”
I placed both hands flat on the counter.
“It was not a joke.”
Brian rolled his eyes. “Dad, don’t start. It was your birthday. Everybody was laughing.”
“At me.”
“You’re always so dramatic.”
