“I’m finished with school, Zack. I graduated. I have a university degree. I’m an adult now, and the last person I need to take lessons from is you.”

“I just felt that this might help you remember in the future.”

“You know what else might have helped me remember in the future? You could have taken my keys out of the door, walked up to me, and said something like ‘Here, honey, you left your keys in the door.’ And I would have been grateful, and said, ‘Thank you very much, next time I’ll try to be more careful.’”

“Well, in fact, the first time you did it, that’s exactly what I—”

“And here’s the part that really gets me. I’m running around this house, trying to find my keys, so I can race over to the drugstore, to get you some fucking ointment so you can put it on your stupid hand where you burned it because you dropped a lit match into a gas-filled barbecue, which, if memory serves me, I have told you before never to do!”

Paul had been standing at the door to the kitchen the whole time, and now that there was a brief pause in the screaming, he decided it was safe to navigate his way between us so he could get to the fridge. “Nice going, Dad,” he said. “It’s the backpack thing all over again.”

Before sending me out to fetch her car, Sarah said to me, “God, you are such an asshole.”

You see what I mean. You’re not the only one.

Chapter 3

3