Sophie wasn�t going to pretend to forget the morning, though. She sulked in the car after I went to pick her up in the afternoon. At home, she went straight for the television. After dinner, she made a beeline for the television again and made no signs of giving up the remote.

�You can make me go to school, but you can�t make me do my homework,� Sophie said.

Aunt Susan could have the pleasure of answering to Sophie�s teachers after Sophie failed to hand in a week�s worth of homework. So I shrugged and sat down to watch a real-life murder mystery story with her. After twenty minutes of it, I was bored. I wandered by the kitchen doorway and came upon a domestic scene. My mom stood at the sink. My dad stood beside her, doing nothing. I shuddered, imagining myself and Ben in the scene.

But then my dad picked up the dish towel. My mom took it from him and stuffed it in her apron pocket. He eyed the growing number of dishes dripping dry on the dish rack. My dad lending a hand? He said something to my mom, but I couldn�t hear him. I moved closer.

�Why do you ask me that every year?� she answered. �I don�t want anything.�

�We could go out to eat,� he said. �I could cook�well, maybe with Lisa�s help. Or if you insist on cooking, I could do the dishes after.�

I held back a gasp. I wanted to yell �Yes, God, yes,� for my mom, but I didn�t want to reveal myself. I waited for her to answer.

She shook her head.

My dad sighed. I ducked out of sight as he stalked out of the kitchen. I followed. He peered into the living room. Sophie was in a trance in front of the glowing television screen. He turned to look over his shoulder and saw me.

�You weren�t a bad kid,� he said.

�Uh, thanks.�

�I don�t know how this one�s going to turn out.�

�It�s a phase,� I said. Now that I was an adult, I felt entitled to use that expression. �She�ll grow out of it.�

�I don�t know,� he said. �Some people don�t seem to change.�

I went back to the kitchen doorway. My mom untied the strings of her red-and white striped apron, and pulled it off over her head. She shook the apron out and held it out in front of her for a few seconds, as if she were expecting someone else to come and wear it.

I walked away. My dad was still watching Sophie stare at the television. I tapped him on the shoulder.

�I�m going upstairs to make a phone call,� I said.

He nodded. I climbed the stairs up to my old room. I turned on the lights in the room and picked up my cell phone, which had been sitting on the bureau between framed pictures of high school friends I never spoke to anymore. Flipping open my phone, I pressed a number on my speed dial, and then cradled the phone between my ear and shoulder. I took the ring out of my pocket and slid it back onto the fourth finger of my left hand.

Ben picked up on the other end.

�Remember when you asked me to marry you?� I said.

�Yeah. Yeah, I do.�

That wasn�t exactly the most encouraging response.

�I�m sorry I didn�t call sooner,� I said.

�I�m glad you did call.�

That was a little better.

�You know how I said yes when you proposed?� I began.

He waited. In the background, I could hear the rumble of a train passing by his apartment. Our apartment.

�I�d like to stick by that answer,� I said.

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