The Tone

My mom said your brother called about visiting

and I heard the whole sentence underneath:

he's doing better, he's coming back,

he's ready to see you again,

and you need to decide

if you're ready to see him.

Her hand was on the kitchen counter

like she was steadying herself,

like she'd practiced saying it

in a way that didn't sound like a question.

I nodded like I didn't understand.

It was the kindest thing I could do.

If I pretended I hadn't heard the real words,

we could both pretend they weren't there,

and she wouldn't have to watch me

figure out whether to be angry or grateful

or both at the same time.

Her fingers drummed once on the counter.

Once.

Then stopped.

We both went back to not saying anything.