“No.”
I softened my voice.
“I owed him.”
Evan frowned.
I unfolded the bus map again.
The tire shop.
The barber.
The grocery store.
A street near Evan’s old elementary school.
Different people.
Different places.
Different amounts.
And suddenly, I wasn’t asking where his money had gone.
I was asking who he believed he owed.
“How do you even remember all of this?”
Evan stared at the map.
Then he said four words that stopped me cold.
“Dad would’ve remembered.”
The tire shop owner looked away.
I lowered the map.
“What does your father have to do with this?”
Evan grabbed his backpack.
“Nothing.”
I stepped in front of the door.
“No.”
“Mom.”
“Tell me.”
“Move.”
“No.”
His eyes filled.
That frightened me more than his anger.
“Please.”
“Evan.”
He wiped his face roughly with his sleeve.
