My mom pivots like she always does. "How is the team managing — with what happened to your teammate?"
I play with the condensation on my glass of water. "You'd be surprised how quickly things adapt."
"Do they know what happened to him?"
My dad leans in slightly. Nessa's headphones are off — I notice without looking.
I let a slow smile settle on my face. "These things take time."
Nessa stands. "I'm going to the bathroom."
She walks off before anyone can stop her.
My mom watches her go, then turns back to me. She picks up her wine when it arrives, but she doesn't drink it yet. Just holds it and looks at me.
"Theo."
I meet her eyes.
"If you know anything about what happened to him—" She keeps her voice even. Careful. "You know what the right thing to do is."
I think about that for a moment.
"I don't know anything," I say. Calm. Unbothered.
She reads me. She's been reading me since I was seven years old, when she found the neighbor's cat and immediately understood that I hadn't found it the way she did. She never said a word then either. Just looked at me with that particular expression she's wearing right now.
"He wasn't who people thought he was," I say quietly. "That's all I'll say about it."
"Theo—"
"I have an alibi for that night. The game. The ER after." I pick up my water. "That's all the police would need from me."
She holds my gaze for a long moment. Her jaw tightens almost imperceptibly.
My dad says my name, low.
Nessa reappears and slides back into her seat. The conversation closes without anyone closing it.
My mom knows how to read silence. That's the problem with her. I give her almost nothing, and she still manages to fill in the outline.
I smile at her over my water glass.
She looks away first.
We get home just after eleven.
The house settles quietly around us. My mom kisses Nessa on the cheek and squeezes my shoulder on the way past — still tells me she loves me — and I think about what that means. That she can look at me, suspect what she suspects, and still say it. Our family is loyal beyond reason. I used to think that was a fault.
Tonight it just feels like the truth.
"I'm going to watch something," I tell Nessa. "Come."
She sighs like I've asked her to pick up dog shit. "You're such a dick."
"At dinner?"
"Talking about him like that. In front of Mom." She shakes her head. "You have a problem, Theo."
