"And then what did you do?" Andremoth asked. He was sitting in his ridiculous, fake leather chair. It was this huge brown recliner. It made him look like a kid, sitting in it. There were so many times Runa wanted to laugh at him for it.

"I took a walk to clear my head," she told him.

"That's good," he said. "So, let's go back to the thing with your father. What was your father doing when he died?"

"He was on an airplane on his way home," Runa said.

"From California?"

"Yes" she said. "He had just finished a long week out there and was on his way home when his plane had mechanical problems and went down over the Rockies."

"So he wasn't able to come home to you," he said. He paused for a moment and studied her. Runa felt self conscious. "What prevented him from coming home?"

"An accident," Runa said.

"And yet," Andremoth told her. "You don't blame an accident."

Runa looked at him, surprised and then looked away. "No," she whispered.

"You blame her, don't you? You blame your mom for not moving you to California so he didn't have to ride that plane to work all the time."

Runa shook her head.

"No," she said, "I used to."

"Well, who do you blame, then?"

Runa looked at him, and quietly said, "Me."

"Mmm hmmm," he said. "And why?"

"I don't know. I guess it was me. If I wasn't around, he could have loved mom more."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because, I think they were happier before me. I think they got to spend more time together."

"I see," he said to her. "Did you ever think you might have actually had the opposite affect?"

Runa looked at him, confused. "How?"

"Maybe you were the glue holding them together. Maybe he kept coming back because of his family."

"Maybe," she said. "I don't really know."

"That's true. None of us really know for sure."

"So can I talk about something else?"

"Sure," Andremoth said.