“He had a good one.

Not perfect.

We fought about homework and curfews.

At sixteen he insisted on learning guitar and made us listen to the same four chords for six months.”

“Mom,” Tobias protested.

“You played them very loudly,” Ruth replied.

For a little while we spoke like three people at an awkward family gathering instead of two mothers and a son meeting under impossible circumstances.

Then Ruth unzipped her bag and withdrew a small blue notebook.