“He expected you to return.”
“I know.”
Dad looked toward him.
“I expected it too.”
Luis put his hands into his jacket pockets.
“I wanted you to ask.”
“I thought you wanted me to leave you alone.”
“That was the problem with us.”
“What?”
“We kept respecting requests nobody actually made.”
Dad smiled sadly.
“Yes.”
They stood beside each other for a while.
Then Luis walked toward the unfinished community room.
“What are you doing with this wall?”
“Windows.”
“Too small.”
“You haven’t seen the plans.”
“I’ve photographed workshops for thirty years. They’re too small.”
Dad frowned.
“They are perfectly adequate.”
Luis called to Derek.
“Your father is already ruining the building.”
Derek looked delighted.
And just like that, the Ruiz brothers were arguing about windows after forty years apart.
Mom came beside me.
“Good.”
“You call that good?”
“They’re discussing windows.”
She smiled.
“Not the past.”
