I sat down on the couch next to Lukas, close enough that our shoulders touched. He didn’t look at me, but he didn’t move away either.
“You look like shit.”
I didn’t sit. I stood in the middle of the living room, arms crossed, looking at the same brown plaid couch, the same glass ashtray on the end table, the same framed photo of the three of us at Busch Gardens in 1994. In the photo, I was seven, holding a stuffed dolphin. Lukas was eleven, already too cool to smile. And our father was young, with both arms around us, his face open and unguarded in a way I’d never seen him again after that summer. incesto madres e hijos comics xxx 1
“Fair enough,” he said, when he could breathe again. “I deserve that. I deserve worse.” I sat down on the couch next to
He laughed. Actually laughed. It turned into a cough, and he had to sit back down in the recliner, and I watched him and felt something twist in my chest that I refused to name. I stood in the middle of the living
It was still warm.
“I’m not asking you to promise anything,” he said. “I’m just asking you to sit down. Drink your coffee before it gets cold.”