I pause in tearing off a piece of bread. “Who? Where?”

“Blizzrd,” my son repeats. Impatient. Derisive. “At the Downtown Stop.”

“Is that an under-twenty-one venue?” I take my own seat.

“Dunno. I don’t think so, except for the concert. Anyway, you can go with an adult.” Eli dishes himself a full plate of gooey lasagna. The sauce and melted cheese spread out all over the plate, making a mess he doesn’t seem to mind as he digs in.

“I’m not sure I like this idea.”

Eli pauses mid-shovel. “Blizzrd haven’t played around here since before COVID, and they announced they’re breaking up after this tour. It’s the last time they’ll ever be playing together again. I’m going to that concert.”

His flat tone sets me back. It’s not an argument, if only because he’s making it very clear he’s not making any compromise. A thin fury fills me. Not at Eli, but at Christian. I rejected him, so now he’s going after my son. Maybe my husband too.

“I don’t like you spending so much time with him, Eli.” My silver kiddush cup was my father’s, and it’s heavy. I lift it, sipping, and set it down carefully so I don’t spill.

Eli laughs. The sound of it is bright and genuine, and it’s been so long since I heard anything like that from him that I am at first convinced it didn’t come out of his mouth.

“Mom,” he says, sounding too much like Ken. Indulgent. As though I’m an idiot, but one he’s fond of.

“He’s my age, Eli.”

“Yeah, but he’s cool,” Eli says. “Did you know he’s been like, all around the world?”

“I didn’t.”

“Well, he has. He says I should think about taking a gap year. Do something, like real-world experience, before I go to college.” Eli drags his fork through the mess on his plate. Takes another bite.

“Somehow, I doubt your dad will be down with you taking a gap year.” I push a napkin toward him for the sauce at the corners of his lips.

Eli wipes his mouth. “Just because you guys have never gone anywhere or done anything—”

“What are you talking about? He travels all the time.”

“You never do,” Eli replies in a low voice. “Christian’s been to Bali, Mom. New Zealand. He even went to Japan. How cool would it be if I did a gap year in Japan?”

“Very cool,” I admit. There’s a glow in his eyes that used to be there all the time when he showed me the forts he built, the pictures he drew, the sparkly rock he found in the park. I haven’t seen him look like that in so long.

“Christian says I have all the time in the world to go to school.”

“Yes, well, Christian is not your parent.”

Eli puts his fork down with a clank. “You’re always nagging me about making friends, being more social. But now that I am—”

“Friends your own age,” I interrupt.