“It is entirely necessary now,” he answered, and stood in the doorway like a man holding a door open, which is exactly what he was doing, though I did not understand it yet.

While we waited, Nana reached into her purse again and handed me half a stale sleeve of saltine crackers, and I ate all four of them at once, even though my mouth was dry as paper, because I had learned never to refuse food when it was offered, since you could not know when it would be offered again.

Then she leaned close to my ear, close enough that only I could hear, and murmured, “You’re making your father leave work early for this nonsense.” I stared at the floor tile and did not answer her.

One of my socks had twisted under my heel, and I worked at straightening it with my toes, because fixing the sock was a thing I could control, and there was almost nothing else in that room that I could.

Chapter 6 — Sawdust in His Cuffs

When my father finally came through the clinic door, there was pale pine sawdust caught in the cuffs of his work shirt, and one bootlace trailed behind him, and I understood from those two details how fast he had left the mill — that he had not stopped to brush himself off or tie his boot, that he had simply run.