“Whenever I came home, she was usually standing right here.”
“Almost always.” He sat smoking at the kitchen table. The cartons he had brought were stacked against the wall, still folded up. He had neglected to buy packing tape. “It made it hard to sneak past if I’d been in a fight at school.”
“You used to get into a lot of fights,” his sister said. “Why was that?”
He shrugged. “Dad said to never take shit off of anybody.”
“Mom wouldn’t like that language, Neil.”
“Well, that’s how Dad put it to me, anyway.”
She knew he was lying.