the phone.

he is curled there, crying, on the phone learning something I will know soon. something new. something as bad, as much my news as his. I walk past him toward the door at the end of the dining room - the house, definitely theirs, a place I'm barely welcome. I rise onto my tip toes and, in impossible slow motion, finally come down in a smooth, fluid arc to my knees. i still don't know what it is. i try to be ready.