“Joe said that Dad told him to stop playing baseball,” she stated without emotion. “Dad said that Joe’s throwing arm wasn’t what it used to be. Dad told him this.” “Dad?” All at once I remembered that long-gone afternoon from the Pause when Joe took me to the yellow house and we stood in our parents’ old bedroom and waited for our father. I had never told anyone about that day, and I did not tell Caroline now. The memory felt like a small, terrible bomb I was holding in my hands.
