The Photographer's Return novel · Chapter 23 of 24

Chapter 23: How It Tastes

"How does it taste?" Milo said, all in one breath.

The dumpling was a little salty.

The wrapper was thick on one side and torn on the other.

A bit of filling had escaped and gone crispy on the bottom of the pan.

I chewed it slowly.

I'd made those dumplings maybe forty times in his life.

I'd watched him spit every one of them into the trash.

"It's the best thing I've ever eaten," I said.

It was the truest thing I'd said all year.

He let out his breath so hard the candle flickered.

"Really?"

"Really."

"Even the broken one?"

"Especially the broken one. That's the crunchy side."

He grinned, the gap where his front tooth was finally growing in.

Then the grin went away.

He looked down at his fists on the table.

"Mom."

"Yeah, baby."

"I'm sorry I spit your food."

On the couch behind me, Casey's page stopped turning.

"All the times," Milo said. "It was good. I knew it was good."

I'd known. I had never once told him I knew.

"And then I kept doing it because I always did it, and I didn't know how to stop."

He was talking fast, the way he did when he was afraid he'd lose the words.

"And when you cried in the laundry room I could hear. I was on the stairs. I heard you every time."

I put the fork down.

"I'm sorry for the car," he said. "When I did the spitting face. And for saying nobody when Dad asked who was on the phone. You weren't nobody."

His chin wobbled.

He held it still with his fist.

"I practiced the dumplings at Bean's aunt's. Four times. These are the fifth ones."

I couldn't say anything.

I got up and went around the little table and picked him up off the chair, even though he was far too big for it.

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