He picked it up off the counter and turned it over in his hands, studying the gold foil the way he studied everything, quietly and for a long time, and then he asked, “Are we really invited, Mom?” I told him we were.

He kept looking at the lettering.

“I want to go,” he said.

I searched his face.

“Why?” He gave a small shrug, the kind that costs a child something.

“I want to see if he acts different when we’re there.