‘And there were some complaints,’ he says.
‘What complaints?’ I say.
‘I’ll let you know if we need you,’ he says.
At Christmas lunch I tell my mother I’ve decided to come home for a little while. Stay a few months or so. I need to focus on my writing. My mother carries her disapproval around her mouth. ‘What’s the real reason?’ she says. ‘Would you tell me if things weren’t working out?’
I tell her I would.
But I’ve gotten good at keeping things from my mother.