“You don’t have to do that.”
“Grandma says guests shouldn’t see the mess.”
He lifted another bundle with both arms.
I took it from him.
“You’re not responsible for making this house look a certain way.”
His hands remained suspended for a moment, empty and uncertain.
Then he let them fall.
We cleared one chair together.
While we waited, I asked about his daily routine. Silas told me that his father dropped him at school before work. His grandmother usually picked him up or waited for him at the house. Some evenings Daniel came before dinner. Other nights Silas stayed until nearly nine.
“Does your grandmother cook for you?”
“Mostly.”
“Do you have enough to eat?”
“Yes.”
“Does she ever forget that you’re here?”
Silas took time before answering.
“Sometimes she thinks I’m Dad.”
The words were quiet.
“She calls me Danny and asks why I haven’t finished my homework.”
