“Mom says you’re not having a nervous breakdown.” “True?” he asks me. “I’m not sure if it’s true, but it’s true that I said it.” I start peeling carrots into the sink. “No, I’m not,” he says. “But my mom died, and it’s made me think about a lot of things.” I put down the scraper. “I’m sorry,” I say. “You know what’s worse? I really need to go to the bathroom. I’ve peed in the forest a couple of times, but I mean if I’m going to stay awhile . . .”
