Of course she had.
My father stood at the bar pouring bourbon.
“Look who finally remembered where we live.”
I took off my coat.
“Hello, Dad.”
Mom kissed the air beside my cheek.
Marisa gave me an awkward hug.
“Congrats on the degree.”
“Thank you.”
She winced.
“For real, I mean.”
Interesting.
Maybe she had not known.
We sat.
I placed my phone in the center of the table.
“Recording?”
Dad rolled his eyes.
“Yes.”
“Fine.”
I activated it.
Then we ate for seven minutes pretending to be a family.
Chicken.
Potatoes.
Wine.
My mother discussed a neighbor’s divorce.
Dad complained about taxes.
Marisa talked about a property listing.
Finally I set down my fork.
“Why did you tell everyone I failed?”
Mom sighed.
“We’ve covered this.”
“No, you called it confusion.”
“Because that’s what it was.”
“What were you confused about?”
She glanced at Dad.
He looked at me.
