“I’ve got thirty-five years’ worth of questions,” Jonah said. “You want to take a number?”
“Jonah.”
He looked at me, then away.
His phone was in his hand.
I had not seen him take it out.
He stared at the screen without unlocking it.
Elise noticed. “What?”
“Nothing.”
I almost laughed.
The word had become poisonous.
“Apparently nothing is very popular today,” I said. “What is it?”
He shoved the phone back into his pocket. “Not now.”
“Jonah.”
“Mom.”
“Don’t use that tone with me. I taught you that tone.”
His nostrils flared.
Elise leaned forward. “What are you hiding?”
“I am not hiding anything.”
“You just put your phone away like it contains nuclear launch codes.”
“It contains my phone.”
“Jonah.”
“Would everybody stop saying my name?”
I watched him.
He paced once to the locker entrance and back. Sweat darkened the collar of his T-shirt despite the cold air leaking from the facility vents. He shoved both hands through his hair, leaving it standing up in the back.
