Dad’s finally lost it. He’s been crying a lot lately, and drinking. And wearing his pajamas everywhere. Pajamas at the bank, pajamas at the grocery store, pajamas on dates with people he met online. I try telling him to wear pants like a normal person, but he won’t listen. ‘Pajamas are more comfy,’ he says. ‘They make me feel like I’m wrapped up in clouds.’
Tuesday night means we’re eating dinner at the kitchen table. Dad and I sit across from each other, an empty wooden chair on either side of us. I blow the steam off a bowl of
