Epilogue

The dinner table is quiet as everyone eats. Kyle and I observe our younger kids, Emyth and Lay, as they try desperately to ignore whatever’s bothering their sixteen year old sister.

“I give it five seconds,” Kyle whispers to me.

“Cait is quiet. She won’t talk in as easily as five seconds,” I remind him.

“She will if she’s extremely pissed. She has your spirit.”

Cait forks a piece of meat and bites down into it before slamming the utensil unto her plate.

“Oh my God! I can’t take it anymore!” she yells.

I clear my throat, turning to Kyle. “I suppose I was wrong.”

We turn to our eldest daughter.

“Honey,” I say, calmly. “What’s wrong?”

“Moooooom,” she whines, “You would not believe what happened today.”

“Do tell us,” Kyle says, sipping at his juice.

“So you know that guy who I always say gets on my nerves?”

Kyle drops his fork and clears his throat, turning to me and stifling a laugh. “You mean that guy named Fisher?”