“I don’t care.”
He looked at my hair.
“You still have popcorn in there.”
“I know.”
“A lot.”
“I know, Owen.”
He removed one piece.
Then, before I could stop him, he ate it.
“Owen!”
He grinned.
“It’s still buttery.”
For the first time that night, we both laughed.
When we arrived home, Mrs. Pham was sitting in the living room.
“You’re early.”
“Long story.”
“How was Frank?”
“He woke up about an hour ago,” she said. “He was confused at first.”
Owen paused.
“He kept asking for you.”
“For me?”
Mrs. Pham nodded.
“I told him you had gone
to a movie.”
Her expression softened.
“He said, ‘I used to take my boy to the movies.’”
Owen became very still.
“He’s awake?”
“In his room.”
Owen walked down the hallway.
He stopped outside Frank’s door.
“Want me to come with you?” I asked.
He shook his head.
“I think I need to do this alone.”
He opened the door.
From the hallway, I could see Frank sitting in bed.
He looked smaller than the man I remembered.
“Owen?”
“Hi, Dad.”
“You went to the movies?”
“Yeah.”
“What did you see?”
“Spider-Man.”
A soft smile appeared on Frank’s face.
