When Sheila walks out of Denny’s, leaving Tom baffled, he can’t help but remember the time his daughter, Susan, also left him in a restaurant booth, years after her parents’ separation:
"“I’m just still so mad about it all, Dad,” Susan had said finally, no longer meeting his eyes. “I know, love. Me too. I’m sorry that you’re mad, that you’ve been hurt. Sorrier than you’ll ever know, at least until you have kids of your own.”
“I find that kind of hard to believe.”
“It’s true. If you believe nothing else from me, believe that. When your kids are hurting, you hurt worse. When they cry, you cry harder. It might not look the same, but it is. I’m here Susan Marie Downlane. I’m here for you; I always have been.”
“I need to go.”
“Can I drive you to the bus station? Or just drive you up to Minneapolis?”
“No. No thank you. I’ll do it on my own.”"
From Chapter Fifteen
