Jars felt like he was looking into his son’s face for the first time. Three years had slipped silently by without a word passing between them. Kyle had changed. Boyish features had given way to previews of the manhood waiting in the wings. The physical evidence of Kyle’s parental union were strikingly evident. The young man had inherited his father’s height, standing nearly eye level as he greeted his father with indifference, dismissing Jars’ offered hand without so much as a glance. Not that Jars had expected a warm reception. He had no reason to. His own behavior—or better put, lack of anything over the past three years resembling fatherly behavior—pretty much guaranteed a cordial reunion. At least at its beginning. Perhaps as the evening unfolded they might make progress. But what would progress look like?