Why?”
“I don’t want to see how old he got until I hear his voice.”
None of us understood that, but we accepted it.
At four, Dad called.
Mom tried to give him privacy.
Dad caught her wrist.
“Stay.”
She sat beside him.
We remained in the kitchen pretending not to listen.
Luis answered after three rings.
“Hello?”
Dad closed his eyes.
“Luis.”
Silence.
Then:
“You still sound serious.”
Dad laughed.
It was not polite laughter.
It was the helpless laugh of someone suddenly twenty-seven again.
“And you still insult
