“Hi,” I said.
“How was your day?” he asked in a tense voice as he walked to the fridge and grabbed a drink. It was a beer, which meant the meeting had been very bad. My father rarely drank.
“Mixed,” I answered, keeping my tone light. I did want to talk to him about things, but I would have to wait until he was in the right headspace. “What’s your plan for the night?”
“I’m going to take twenty minutes to myself,” he responded. He popped the lid off of the bottle and took a deep drink from it. He was looking off into the distance, clearly focused on something else.
I nodded. I had expected that answer; it was his custom when he wanted to think something through. Without another word, he left the room.
I made my sandwich and then sat at the kitchen counter to eat it.
