Before he cuts into them, I reach out and nudge the butter, then the maple syrup toward him. Taking the hint, he cuts a square of butter off the stick and drops it on his stack. Dad looks at the table, watching the silent interaction, but he doesn’t stop talking and doesn’t seem to find our behavior suspicious. I make the proper noise in response to Dad’s story, but my attention stays on Luther as he lifts his fork. His lips part. A drip of syrup falls onto his plate. I wish I was that plate. And then he puts the fluffy goodness into his mouth. He pulls the clean fork out from between his
...more
