“We invited Mathias’s parents.”
“Oh. Cool.”
“They haven’t arrived yet.”
“I get the impression they’re rarely on time for anything. They’re pretty busy,” I explained.
“Is that so?”
“Something like that,” I said sadly. I couldn’t really picture the Webbers in a room that smelled like beer, Doritos, varnished walls, and the sweat of a couple dozen people on a ninety-degree August day. “Dad?”
“Yes?”
“Did you know Cal dropped out of college?”
“I did.”
“He said he had a seizure.”
“I heard it was what they call an aura…just a warning sign.”
“From who?”
“His boss at the factory.”
“Oh. That’s good, right, that it wasn’t a full-on seizure?”
“I would think so.”
“Then why did he get fired?” I asked.
“I don’t believe he did,” my father said.
“Oh. Demoted…maybe.”
“That’s too bad.” My dad brushed my arm, thankful, I think, that I was still pretty much untested by life.