Real change came in ordinary increments, and sometimes not at all.

One winter evening June asked Warren, in my hearing, why he hadn’t been there when she was born.

He sat beside her on the rug.

“Because I didn’t know about you then.

Your mom tried to tell me.

Another adult stopped the message from reaching me, and I’d already done things that made it hard for her to trust me.”

June looked at him for a long time.