I suppose I could have asked him questions about his job, or his childhood, but it already seemed too late to get into it. These were the sorts of conversations that should have begun years earlier. They needed foundations built brick by brick, and not just thwacked down whole. He could have asked about my life, but I don’t know how articulate I would have been. “What were you thinking, slapping that beef roast with your bare hands?” “I dunno.” I wasn’t being cagey. I honestly hadn’t a clue why I’d done it.
