Then I noticed the garage heater was running.
The garage door stood slightly open.
I walked over, opened the side entrance, and stepped inside.
What I saw stopped me cold.
Ethan sat on a metal folding chair beside storage bins and Christmas decorations.
His coat was still zipped.
A turkey sandwich wrapped in plastic rested between his hands.
He looked up when he heard me.
« Dad? »
His eyes were red.
Not dramatically red.
Not the way someone’s eyes look after sobbing.
They looked like he’d spent a long time fighting tears.
« What are you doing out here? »
He looked down.
« Just eating. »
« Why aren’t you inside? »
He hesitated.
Then he whispered, « Aunt Victoria said I smelled like your restaurant. »
I stared at him.
« What? »
« She said everybody dressed really nice tonight, and because I helped you at work, my clothes smelled like food. »
He rubbed a thumb against the sandwich wrapping.
