off the rack

I felt bad. The likelihood of my seeing mom and of my being hungover were both markedly higher on Sundays--a meaningless statisical convergence that nonetheless could create a false impression. I said, "If I really drank too much I wouldn't be hungover now, mom. In fact I'm a lightweight. I should really drink more--or at least more steadily."
On the north side of Eleventh Alice and I kissed and hugged mom and said our see you soons. I looked for a moment into mom's splintered blue eyes and saw there that love was so strong in her that she feared the thing. I think she guessed accurately enough what it was like to be somebody else (such as her husband or one of her kids) that the guess freaked her out and so she kept from making it. In fact I could see how one might do just that, avoiding sympathy out of an excess of it. "Love you," we said to each other and let go.

--from indecision by benjamin kunkel