I could tell Dad was angry on the drive back, and not just that irritated frustration he got sometimes when things didn't pan out the way he wanted. His total silence, paired with how his right hand shook just a little when he took it off the steering wheel of his pickup for a moment as he adjusted the heat in the cab, mas more than enough indication.
I'd only ever seen him this level of furious once in my life. The night before I left Reading for what I thought was forever.
Instead of prodding him and making things worse, I settled back, staring out the passenger's window, watching the mountains on the other side of Cutter Lake, remembering not just the couple we'd just left, but my pause at the door, as I walked out behind Dad's storming retreat.
"I don't know your name." I'd looked up into his eyes, that man I'd always called a bully and, in that moment, he became a person to me once and for all.