But a few minutes later, Mickey did as he was asked. The boy gazed out the window, giving Myron the back of his head. They were only about ten minutes from the house in Livingston. Myron wanted to ask him more, wanted to push him to open up, but maybe it had been enough for one day.

Still gazing out the window, Mickey said, “Don’t you dare judge her.”

Myron kept his hands on the steering wheel. “I just want to help.”

“She wasn’t always like this.”

Myron had a thousand follow-up questions but he gave the kid space. When Mickey spoke again, the defensive tone was back. “She’s a great mom.”

“I’m sure she is.”

“Don’t patronize me, Myron.”

He had a point. “So what happened?”

“What do you mean?”

“You said she wasn’t always like this. Do you mean a junkie?”

“Stop calling her that.”

“You pick the term then.”

Nothing.

“So tell me what you meant by ‘she wasn’t always like this,’ ” Myron said. “What happened?”

“What do you mean, what happened?” He swerved his gaze to the front windshield, staring at the road a little too intensely. “Dad happened. You can’t blame her.”

“I’m not blaming anyone.”

“She was so happy before. You have no idea. She was always laughing. Then Dad left and . . .” He caught himself, blinked, swallowed. “And then she fell apart. You don’t know what they meant to each other. You think Grandma and Grandpa are a pretty great couple, but they had friends and a community and other relatives. My mom and dad only had each other.”

“And you.”

He frowned. “There you go with the patronizing again.”

“Sorry.”

“You don’t get it, but if you ever saw them together, you would. When you’re that much in love—” Mickey stopped, wondered how to continue. “Some couples aren’t built to be apart. They’re like one person. You take one away . . .” He didn’t finish the thought.

“So when did she start using?”

“A few months ago.”

“After your father vanished?”

“Yes. Before that, she’d been clean since I was born—so before you say it, yes, I know she used to do drugs.”

“How do you know?”

“I know a lot,” Mickey said, and a sly, sad smile came to his face. “I know what you did. I know how you tried to break them up. I know you told my father that my mother got knocked up by another guy. That she slept around. That he shouldn’t quit school to be with her.”

“How do you know all that?”

“From Mom.”

“Your mother told you all that?”

Mickey nodded. “She doesn’t lie to me.”

Wow. “So what else did she tell you?”

He crossed his arms. “I’m not going through the last fifteen years for you.”

“Did she tell you I hit on her?”

“What? No. Gross. Did you?”