He didn’t say anything at first. I lifted my eyes, thinking he wasn’t going to answer. But then he did.

“Gross?” He frowned. “I’m not sure that’s the word I’d use. I suppose some people might say that sometimes it can be…unpleasant or upsetting. If someone dies in a violent way or in an accident, like Oren’s parents did, there can be a lot of injury to the body.”

“Were…” I cleared my throat. “Um…were Oren’s parents really messed up?”

He sighed and leaned forward, resting his forearms on the desk. “I’ll be honest with you, Evie. It was difficult.”

“Difficult because it was gross?”

He stared at me for a long moment before he said, “Difficult because you never want to see people injured. Because it was a violent death. Because they were young and taken too soon. And a young boy was left behind. Difficult because the whole time I was thinking about how you and your brother would manage if something like that happened to your mother and me.”

He was looking at me so intently that I dropped my eyes.

“It’s not something I like to think about,” he continued, his voice soft. “I have a job to do, but I’m still human and I have feelings. Sometimes the job is very hard.”

I wasn’t sure what to say.

Dad kept talking. “There are many reasons why it can be difficult. I see death nearly every day, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t affect me. But that’s not a bad thing. Empathy—the ability to understand other people’s grief—is an important part of this job. Maybe the most important. The other stuff—the paperwork, dealing with the cemetery, arranging travel—it’s just process. Caring for people is what really matters.”

I nodded and looked down at my hands.

“Did Oren ask about his parents specifically?”

“No,” I said, looking up and shaking my head. “No. I was just curious. I mean, he was in the accident, so he probably saw…” I was overcome with a wave of horror, imagining what he must have seen.

“He may have,” Dad said gently, frowning. “But hopefully he didn’t see too much or doesn’t remember. The brain can do a great kindness during times of shock. Oftentimes people who are in catastrophic accidents end up with big gaps in their memory. No kid should have to remember something like that.”

“I hope he doesn’t remember either,” I said. Then, after a long minute, I added, “His uncle wants him to go to therapy.”

Dad nodded. “Probably not a bad idea.”

“He doesn’t want to,” I said. “And it’s not like he’s super chatty, so what would he talk about?”

Dad smiled a little. “There’s nothing wrong with him getting help. I hope someday he feels ready to receive it.”

“Me too.”

“But you’re doing a good thing right now just by being his friend.”

I looked down at my hands. “We’re not really friends.”

“Oh?”

I shrugged. “I mean, he’s cool, it’s just…I’m more of a loner.”