“Will you two be all right in your old room?” My mother hands me a pile of blankets. “We can make up a bed for him in the guest room. You know, if you think he’ll be more—”
“This is fine.” I look back into my bedroom. Alistair is standing at my window, looking out at the street. “Dinner was so fantastic, Mom.” I squeeze her hand. “It was exactly the way I wanted it to be. Thank you.”
“He seemed to have such a good time.” She peers over my shoulder at him. “Then slowly his mood changed, didn’t it?”
We had a great dinner. Conversation was easy and warm. But somewhere between the last course and dessert, Alistair began to retreat into himself. I could see it happening. I’d catch him staring off into space, his eyes vacant. He couldn’t follow the conversation. Then he disappeared into the w
