I was still smiling when I got home.
Ethan and Noah were at the kitchen table with the structural kit and what appeared to be
a disagreement about triangulated load paths that had reached the stage where both of
them had their notebooks open and were making competing annotations. Neither of them
looked up when I came in.
“How was it?” Ethan said, without looking up.
“Good,” I said.
“Good how?” he said.
“Just good,” I said.
He looked up then. Assessed my face with the efficiency of a child who has been doing
this for nine years. Then he looked back at his notebook and said: “Okay,” in the tone of
someone who has confirmed what they wanted to confirm and is satisfied.
Noah, from across the table, did not look up at all. But the corner of his mouth moved.
I went to bed still carr
