Mom slipped a paper into my hand as we went out the door. There was an address on it. Reno, Nevada.

We rode to the airport with Dad. The car was deathly silent, Wendy clung to my arm, pushing her bony shoulder into my ribs the whole way.

“Where did we go wrong, son?” Dad asked the windshield. “First, Marcus, now you.” His eyes found mine in the rearview mirror. I had never heard my Dad speak his name after the day he left. I stared at his eyes in shock. He said nothing else as we bought tickets with cash, loaded the luggage and waited to board the plane.

“Flight 568 to Reno, now boarding,” rang the too sweet voice on the attendant. It reminded me of Mom, and I got a little misty. “You’ll write, won’t you son? When things calm down?” Dad looked misty too.

“Yeah.”
“Oh, Mr. Cooper! We won’t forget you! You have been so kind!” Wendy piped up. I couldn’t believe she had been so quiet this whole time, and she hugged him, which clearly surprised my dad.

“Bye, Wendy,” Dad said, “And bye, Son.” He shook my hand.