Chapter 12 — At the Gate

Three days later Joe came to my parents’ house.

My father met him at the front gate and did not open it.

“I want to see Tommy,” Joe said.

“Tommy doesn’t want to see you,” my father answered, calmly.

“He’s ten years old!

He doesn’t know what he wants!” And my father looked at him for a long moment and said, “After your mother’s party, son, that boy seems to have a clearer grasp on reality than most of the adults I know.” I came out onto the porch then, and when Joe saw me he started in on the thing he had clearly come to say, that I hadn’t left him any choice, that I’d forced his hand, and I came down the walk toward him because I was not going to have this conversation shouted across a yard.

“What choice did I take from you, Joe?” I asked him.