And at that, Toby wandered out of the bathroom, hair damp from his bath, and heard his father’s voice filling the hallway.

“Is Dad downstairs?” he asked.

I nodded.

He looked up at me, and the worry on his small face was the oldest thing I had ever seen on it.

“Are you going to go back to fighting with him every night?”

Brandon, through the open microphone, heard the question.

And I answered it looking straight into my son’s eyes, so that he, and not the man on the speaker, was the one I was speaking to.

“No, my love,” I said.