Chapter 52

“No. Pictures aren’t the same as people.” How often had I gotten the yearbook out over the past ten years, hoping pictures would help fill a void?

“What was your friend’s name?”

“Dougie.”

“Did you ever have a dog?”

Conversation detours weren’t out of the ordinary when speaking with any pre-teen, I assumed. To me, that wasn’t evidence of brain damage, either.

“Yeah,” I told him. “I should get another one.”

“Me, too. What was your dog’s name?”

“Donny Osmond.”

Archie was understandably baffled.

“Because of his big, white teeth.”

“Oh.”

My explanation didn’t help much.

“Is he in heaven now, too?”

“Yes.”

“When?”

“Not too long after you were born.”

“I bet my mother’s friends with Donnie Oz, then.”