I Got Home From the Oil Rig Two Weeks Early and Found My Eight-Year-Old Son Cooking Dinner for Strangers—The Messages He Never Sent Explained Everything.
“Nobody can make you feel something just because they say so.”
He slid his hand into mine.
“I think I do.
And I’m mad.”
“Both of those can be true.”
We stayed outside until the cold chased us back in.
Later I came across a new entry on his phone: “Day 204.
Christmas was quiet.