“Absolutely. Sorry about that.”
The waiter left.
I stared at Owen.
“What?”
“You sent it back.”
“I don’t like onions.”
“You have eaten onions you didn’t want for eight years.”
He smiled.
“I never liked them.”
That same week, Owen called Lisa.
“No,” I heard him say calmly. “I’m not asking you to take Dad permanently.”
Pause.
“I’m asking you to come for one week in November so Jenna and I can have a break.”
Another pause.
“You have children and a job. I understand.”
His voice remained steady.
“So do we.”
Then he said,
“He’s your father too.”
Eventually he hung up.
He walked into the kitchen looking slightly stunned.
“She said yes.”
I smiled.
“You finally asked.”
About a month later, Tamika called us from the theater.
She said someone had left something for Owen.
We drove over.
Tamika met us in the lobby holding a white envelope.
