Chapter 13

Linda got up and went into the kitchen. Wren heard her open the fridge and then the beeps signaling she was programming the microwave. The microwave began to hum. In a couple of minutes, she returned with a plate of spaghetti and meatballs sprinkled with Parmesan cheese, steaming. She set it in front of Wren, along with a beer in a chilled mug.

“You didn’t have to do that. I could have done it myself.” Wren took a bite of pasta.

His mother sat back down on the couch, regarding him. Wren stopped eating long enough to look over at her. It was then he noticed the worry on her face, the way it creased the area between her eyebrows, her mouth open as if she was poised to say something but was still considering how to say it.

“What is it, Ma?” Wren swallowed some of the beer and pulled another smoke from the pack, lit up. He pushed the plate away, no longer hungry. There was a sudden tension in the air, and Wren didn’t think it was because of the news he had just dropped.