He just stood up, and walked to the front counter, and asked the receptionist for the medical-consent form — the one that authorized Nana to bring me to appointments.

Nana hurried after him, telling him not to be ridiculous, not to blow a small misunderstanding out of all proportion.

My father took the pen, and drew one thick line straight through her name, and signed his own beside it, and handed the clipboard back.

Then he took my hand, and he left his mother standing alone in the middle of that waiting room, and he walked me out to the parking lot.

Chapter 10 — The Sausage Biscuit

I carried the brown paper bag with the two cut pieces of chain in it, held against my chest with both arms, all the way to the truck.