“And I was angry.”

Frank shook his head.

“My father was like that too.”

He looked ashamed.

“I promised myself I wouldn’t become him.”

A long pause.

“But somehow I did.”

Owen sat quietly.

“I’m sorry, son.”

Frank looked directly at him.

“I don’t know how long I’m going to remember who you are.”

His eyes filled with tears.

“So I wanted to tell you while I still could.”

Owen reached out and took his father’s hand.

“Something happened tonight,” he said.

“There was a boy at the theater.”

Frank listened.

“His father grabbed him when they got upset.”

Owen paused.

“And somebody stepped in.”

Frank looked surprised.

“Who?”

Owen hesitated.

“Me.”

Frank’s face changed.

He squeezed Owen’s hand.

“Good.”

He whispered the word again.

“Good.”

Then he said something I will never forget.

“I wish somebody had done that for you.”

Owen’s eyes closed.

“Me too.”

Frank looked down.

“I wish somebody had done it for me.”

The two men sat quietly.

Then Owen leaned forward and hugged his father.

I closed the door gently and went into the kitchen.

I stood over the sink removing popcorn from my hair.

Twenty-three pieces.

I counted.

The next morning, Frank remembered none of the conversation.

He called me “the girl.”

Asked where his wife was.

Complained about the coffee.

Owen gently reminded him his mother had died four years earlier.

Frank cried as though hearing it for the first time.

Owen held his hand.

But something inside Owen had changed.

Two weeks later, we went to lunch.

Owen ordered a burger without onions.

It arrived covered in onions.

He stared at the plate.

His thumb started rubbing against his finger.

Then it stopped.

He raised his hand.

“Excuse me.”

The waiter came over.

“I asked for no onions. Could I please get another one?”

“Absolutely. Sorry about that.”

The waiter left.

I stared at Owen.

“What?”

“You sent it back.”

“I don’t like onions.”

“You have eaten onions you didn’t want for eight years.”

He smiled.

“I never liked them.”

That same week, Owen called Lisa.

“No,” I heard him say calmly. “I’m not asking you to take Dad permanently.”

Pause.