"How would you like to go see your grandma during the summer?" he says. "Not so much for your graduation, but for her 80th birthday."
Honestly, all I want at this point is to take my pie and get the fuck out of the kitchen.
"Yeah, that sounds good."
"She says not to bother driving up, but," he sighs. "Let me tell you a story."
I set my pie down on the counter top.
"When my father was dying, he talked to his dad on the phone. My father told his dad that it was okay if he didn't come down to see him. So he didn't come."
My dad's eyes are glossed over and dull behind his glasses.
"He didn't come to see hiw own son when he was dying," he says. "That's my family for you."
"Yeah," I tell him, "I'll go."
By the time I get the pie to my room, it doesn't matter anymore.