to you.”
Owen said nothing.
“I forget a lot now.”
Frank’s hands trembled slightly.
“But I remember some things.”
He looked at his son.
“I remember the parking lot.”
Owen froze.
“The spilled drink,” Frank continued.
“You were little.”
His voice cracked.
“And I was angry.”
Frank shook his head.
“My father was like that too.”
He looked ashamed.
“I promised myself I wouldn’t become him.”
A long pause.
“But somehow I did.”
Owen sat quietly.
“I’m sorry, son.”
Frank looked directly at him.
“I don’t know how long I’m
