Boy: "He's not on anything. Just vitamins."
The old man's eyes opened.
Man: "That's a lie."
The boy's jaw tightened. The old man went quiet again.
I asked the boy to step out while we finished the exam.
He didn't move at first.
Boy: "He doesn't do well alone."
Me: "We'll get you as soon as we're done."
Once he left, I asked the old man what he'd eaten that day.
He whispered: "Soup. At lunch."
Me: "Did you finish it?"
He shook his head.
Then he said something that made me pick up the phone.
"I fed most of it to the dog. The dog wouldn't get up after."
Man: "He started staying with me two months ago. Said he'd help since my daughter's far away."
Me: "And today?"
Man: "I only had a few bites. Something about the smell was wrong. I've felt foggy every day since he moved in today I finally didn't finish eating."
He said that while pretending to be groggy on the couch, he'd heard the boy on the phone in the kitchen.
Rehearsing.
Getting the details of the "fall in the yard" straight before he ever called anyone.