“Conor’s father said, pulling up the rental car in front of her house.
“She sometimes goes back to the hospital after I go to bed,” Conor said. “The nurses let her sleep in a chair.”
His dad nodded. “She may not like me,” he said, “but that doesn’t mean she’s a bad lady.”
Conor stared out of the window at her house. “How long are you here for?” he asked. He’d been afraid to ask before now.
His father let out a long breath, the kind of breath that said bad news was coming. “Just a few days, I’m afraid.”
Conor turned to him. “That’s all?”
“Americans don’t get much holiday.”
“You’re not American.”
“But I live there now.” He grinned. “You’re the one who made fun of my accent all night.”
“Why did you come then?” Conor asked. “Why bother coming at all?”
His father waited a moment before answering. “I came because your mum asked me to.” He looked like he was going to say more, but he didn’t.
Conor didn’t say anything either.
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