The Morning After My Son’s Funeral, an Airport Worker Called and Said, “Your Son Checked In”

and then they’ll know I know.”

He laughed a little. It was a terrible sound to hear.

“You’ve got a face, Dad. You’ve had it since I was nine. You can’t sit on anything.”

Then his voice changed.

“There’s one more piece. About three weeks ago I put a recorder on top of the cabinet in your kitchen. In your house, not mine, because Tara sweeps our place. She continue reading …