The morning was starting to feel like a commercial for a drug to help you painlessly dispose of your demented father. That was a bad thing to think; it would be terrible, Alex knew, if his parents came down with terminal diseases. Unbearable. But worse, for them, in a way, if he did while they were still relatively lucid. It would be best if, somehow, none of them developed degenerative illnesses. He felt guilty for the entire line of thought and sought to ameliorate it.

“How’s Ellen?” he said. “How are the girls?”

“You know, everyone’s doing pretty good,” his father said. He spoke in the slightly higher pitched voice that he used when he was avoiding content. “Lily’s soccer team is doing really well, actually. She’s actually a pretty good player.”

He sounded amazed at this—had there been some suggestion that Lily, and Lily’s team, would perform substandardly in their recreational soccer league?

“That’s great,” Alex said, trudging conversationally forward. “And Ellen’s good? Work and everything not too bad?”

“Not too bad, no,” his father said. “Up and down, but overall pretty good.”

Silence. Mountains.

“Are you still in touch with what’s-her-name?” his father said finally. “Lisa?”

“A little bit,” Alex said. He and Lisa had dated at Amherst four years ago, then broken up when he moved. “Why are you asking?”

“I liked her,” his father said. “You could tell she was a good person. I thought she was really good for you.”

Alex felt unexpectedly exposed.

“Don’t you think I’m a good person?”

“Of course,” he said immediately. “What are you talking about?”

“I don’t know, it just seemed like you went out of your way to describe her as a good person. Like, I don’t know, I need a good person in my life, for some reason.”

“Don’t overanalyze it,” his father said. “I liked her. She was a pretty girl and a smart girl and she cared about you. But it seems like you’re doing just fine. I’m very proud of you.”

But why, now, was he proud? Good, proud. The words had no meaning. They were stand-ins, maybe, for more complicated feelings his father wouldn’t express. Alex wanted to be someone who could communicate, who might be able to formulate his thoughts in such a way that they did not require Talmudic study. He thought, to that end, that he should tell Kate that he loved her, maybe, even if there was no future to the relationship, just so that she could hear him say it. He knew he should tell his father that, too, but he didn’t think he would hear it the way he wanted him to, now. He’d hear it as an apology, or an accusation.

“Thanks,” Alex said. “You want to turn back soon?”

“Whatever you think,” his father said.