Frank shoved his chair back and caught my right arm in a hard grip before my knees reached the floorboards.

“I’ve got him, Arthur,” Frank said, his low voice thick with worry as he hauled me back onto the vinyl seat.

“Ray isn’t feeling well tonight.”

Garrett stayed in his seat beside Frank, fiddling with his silver wristwatch without lifting his eyes from the table.

“You look tired, Dad.

Let me carry the weight for a while,” Garrett said, his voice quiet and even across the table.

I sat frozen in the booth, staring down at my shaking right hand under the table while Frank called for the check.