Fifteen Years After My Father Changed the Locks, He Seated Me at Table Twenty-Two

“Is my name on the master seating plan?” I asked.

The line fell silent for five seconds.

Faint radio static hummed through the military switchboard behind me.

“You’re listed on an addendum sheet,” Howard said.

“It was stapled to the back of the master contract file yesterday afternoon.”

“Which table am I assigned to?” I asked.

“Table twenty-two,” Howard said.

“Where is table twenty-two in the room?” I asked.