I pause. I look at his legs. Both of them. I graduated from high school just two weeks ago, and while I certainly didn’t expect him to show up to my graduation, I kind of held out a small sliver of hope that he would. But a week before I graduated, he left me a message at work and told me he broke his leg and couldn’t make the flight out to Kentucky. Neither of his legs look broken from here. I’m immediately grateful that I am impenetrable because this lie is probably something that would have otherwise damaged me.
