Owen became very still.
“He’s awake?”
“In his room.”
Owen walked down the hallway.
He stopped outside Frank’s door.
“Want me to come with you?” I asked.
He shook his head.
“I think I need to do this alone.”
He opened the door.
From the hallway, I could see Frank sitting in bed.
He looked smaller than the man I remembered.
“Owen?”
“Hi, Dad.”
“You went to the movies?”
“Yeah.”
“What did you see?”
“Spider-Man.”
A soft smile appeared on Frank’s face.
“We used to watch those.”
Owen sat beside him.
“I remember.”
Frank looked down at his hands.
“I wasn’t always good to you.”
Owen said nothing.
“I forget a lot now.”
Frank’s hands trembled slightly.
“But I remember some things.”
He looked at his son.
“I remember the parking lot.”
Owen froze.
“The spilled drink,” Frank continued.
“You were little.”
His voice cracked.
