I see you, Father

"But Mama, it was you who—"

"No."

She spits out the word fiercely, resolutely. 

"You call him. His number is by the phone. You go out there, and

you call him now. You tell him they came looking for him."

 "Mama, stop," he protests, when she starts pushing him off the bed, away from her.

"You give him a chance to get away," she says. "He did it; you and I both know he did it." When she hears herself say the words out loud, she is ashamed, and she claps a hand over her mouth, as

though she has said an obscenity. Then she starts pushing him away again. "Go. Call him. You do this for him. You do this one thing for your son."

He stands, staggers through the door and heads toward the living room. He is wondering why his vision has suddenly become so blurred. When he puts his fingers to his eyes, they come away wet.