drank too much and spent part of the evening angrily arguing about politics with nobody in particular.
Afterward, Owen drove home in silence.
Finally he said,
“He wasn’t always this bad.”
I looked at him.
“No?”
His hands tightened around the steering wheel.
“No.”
A pause.
“He used to be worse.”
Four years ago, Owen’s mother died suddenly after a stroke.
For a while, Frank managed on his own.
Then he started forgetting things.
Keys.
Meals.
Appointments.
Eventually, the problems became more serious.
One night he called Owen at three
