Chapter 12

“The randomness of the phrase stuck with us,” I continue. “So Andy always puts two ones in my card and writes that. Buy yourself a Coke or something.Kicker is, I only drink Pepsi.” I just broke relationship code, relinquishing one of our little insider jokes. But if I don’t, they die with Andy.

There’s a knock. Even in great sadness, Faith behaves like it’s her office and barks, “Busy!”

Stan, outside the door, whispers, “Barry’s mom just got here.”

As if to underscore his update, which has the same dire urgency as “the SWAT team has this place surrounded,” I hear a wail downstairs.

“Where is he? Where’s my boy?”

I take a tissue. “The dressy sweats, imposter cologne, and Tootsie glasses have arrived. Call the exorcist.”

* * * *

“You’ve got a floodlight out over there.”

This is the first full sentence my mother says to me, in our small white gazebo, after she’s asked that we go outside to be alone.

“Not being critical,” she adds hastily.