This is everything that happened between the words.
The mother, with an unusual stillness to her speech, had said to the son over the phone: I’m sorry. You really never had a chance.
And then the pause. In that pause, amalgamations of time and place bubbled in his soggy brain. The moments he lived and the moments of hers that were shared and interpretable. Scared little boy a product of a scared little girl. That’s where they both stopped as people though their bodies continued to age.
She tried to protect him from the old man at first, but you know how that goes. The wind whipped through the alley behind his place. He figured the storm would come soon. He thought about how long it would take him to get to the store and back. If he could do it fast enough to beat the rain. A beer and a half left.
Cans everywhere still. It was bottles under the bed growing up. His and hers. Something to bond over. No, he got in trouble for holding out on her. Where did you get this? And a smack. On again, off again boyfriends who hated him. What can you do?
It finally occurred to him that he hadn’t replied. That she was expecting him to say something. Thunder cracks its warning shot.
While putting his shoe on: It’s okay. Held breath released in her relief. The desired absolution received until the next time it’s needed. Click.