William Walter
“What did he tell you?”
“I was listening to you and Dad.”
She laughs nervously. “Oh. Okay. You shouldn’t do that, Michael.”
She ruffles his hair. “You don’t want to be a sneaky guy, do you?”
“Dad wouldn’t like that.”
“It’s okay. I know you won’t—”
Michael’s father pounds on his door. “Sarah!”
“Christ, Jim. I’m talking to Michael.”
“Get out here now.”
She shivers. “Let me . . . I’m coming.”
“What’s going on?” Michael asks.
“It’ll be okay.” She kisses his forehead. “But stay here. Don’t sneak,
please.”
He bites his lip. “I won’t. But Mom . . .”
She shakes her head, stands unsteadily and slips out his door.
Michael winces as the knob clicks in place.
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