Chapter 6 — You Know

The next morning, Leo took one look at my face over the breakfast table and put down his spoon.

“You know,” he said.

It was not a question.

It was a plain, quiet statement, the words of a person confirming something he had suspected for a long time.

I did not insult him by pretending I didn’t understand.

My son had earned better than that from me, though I did not yet know how much better.

He reached into his backpack, and he pulled out a black spiral notebook, and he set it on the kitchen island between us, and he slid it toward me.