possibly think of how I could.”
* * *
The Pritchett family ate dinner in silence. Mike stared at the vegetables on his plate drowning under a tide of gravy. His mother cut her food into tiny bites. His father chomped away.
“Why aren’t you eating?” his mother asked.
His stomach turned. He’d felt like vomiting since taking his first bite. He wished he didn’t have to do this.
Wished he could keep things as they were. Wished he was okay still being a kid.
“Mike?”
The words formed in his mind, rolled down the back of his neck, and rested like a lead weight in his mouth. But, try as he might, he couldn’t force his jaws apart. He was saying it, he was sure, positive the electro-chemical impulses were firing along his nerves, but nothing happened.
His father sat his fork on the plate. “Mike? Your mother’s asking you a question.”
Here it was. Now or never. Be a man for once, dammit.
“I’m moving.” It leaked out and sapped all of his energy. His hands shook and a bead of sweat rolled down his nose. It fell from the tip and splashed into his gravy. His throat was tight and breathing was painful. But I said it . As scared as he was, he was also shocked. And proud.
“What was that?” His father’s voice was soft. Questioning.
Back out. He didn’t hear. You can go back. Pretend it didn’t happen. Like a do-over in kickball or—
“I’m moving,” he repeated.
His parents stared at him. Neither moved or reacted, except to blink.
“Dennis got a place,” he continued. “It’s a two bedroom. Nice area. Rent’s cheap.” They stayed silent and he went on. “He’s gonna teach me how to drive. His girlfriend’s selling her car. It’s a Saturn. Good condition. Low miles. She’ll cut me a deal.”
“Don’t be silly, Mike.” His mother went back to cutting her food.
His father stared at him from across the table, his face expressionless. “No,” he said and shook his head.
Mike felt heat in his stomach. It rose all the way to his face. He ground his teeth together. “I wasn’t asking permission. I was telling you.”
“And I’m telling you ‘no.’ It’s not open for discussion.”
“Why would you want to leave here anyway?” His mother shook her head. “It doesn’t make sense. You have free room and board, I do your laundry—”
“That’s why.” Mike fought hard to keep his anger in check. “I need to learn how to take care of myself.”
“I have no faith you can do that,” his father said. “Now keep quiet. You’re upsetting your mother.”
“I can’t keep quiet.”
“Mike—”
“I’ve already given Dennis my share of the deposit.”
His father’s face twisted. He rose from the table and stomped upstairs.
His mother shook her head again. “You shouldn’t have, Michael. You shouldn’t have.”
After a moment, his father stormed back down. “You son of a bitch,” he roared. “You snuck into my room and stole that goddamn card.”
“I can’t steal what’s mine.”
His father paced back and forth by the table. “How much did you give him?”
His mother continued eating.
“Half of the deposit.”
“How much is that?”
He opened his mouth to answer, but somehow “That’s none of your business” came out instead.
“How dare you…What has happened to you? Your sister never would have talked to us like that.”
“I’m not her, though, am I?”
“You most certainly aren’t. She’d be ashamed of you if she could see how you treat us. And what would she think of you moving in with the son-of-bitch that took her from us?”
Mike shook his head. “Dennis didn’t take her, Dad. She killed herself.”
His mother gasped. Her spoon fell from her hand and clattered onto her plate.
His father’s eyes glistened. His jaw shook. “That bastard is why she did it.”
“No, you’re why she did it.” Lights flashed in Mike’s eyes and the world shifted. He blinked and found himself on the ground, his chair tipped over
* * *
The Pritchett family ate dinner in silence. Mike stared at the vegetables on his plate drowning under a tide of gravy. His mother cut her food into tiny bites. His father chomped away.
“Why aren’t you eating?” his mother asked.
His stomach turned. He’d felt like vomiting since taking his first bite. He wished he didn’t have to do this.
Wished he could keep things as they were. Wished he was okay still being a kid.
“Mike?”
The words formed in his mind, rolled down the back of his neck, and rested like a lead weight in his mouth. But, try as he might, he couldn’t force his jaws apart. He was saying it, he was sure, positive the electro-chemical impulses were firing along his nerves, but nothing happened.
His father sat his fork on the plate. “Mike? Your mother’s asking you a question.”
Here it was. Now or never. Be a man for once, dammit.
“I’m moving.” It leaked out and sapped all of his energy. His hands shook and a bead of sweat rolled down his nose. It fell from the tip and splashed into his gravy. His throat was tight and breathing was painful. But I said it . As scared as he was, he was also shocked. And proud.
“What was that?” His father’s voice was soft. Questioning.
Back out. He didn’t hear. You can go back. Pretend it didn’t happen. Like a do-over in kickball or—
“I’m moving,” he repeated.
His parents stared at him. Neither moved or reacted, except to blink.
“Dennis got a place,” he continued. “It’s a two bedroom. Nice area. Rent’s cheap.” They stayed silent and he went on. “He’s gonna teach me how to drive. His girlfriend’s selling her car. It’s a Saturn. Good condition. Low miles. She’ll cut me a deal.”
“Don’t be silly, Mike.” His mother went back to cutting her food.
His father stared at him from across the table, his face expressionless. “No,” he said and shook his head.
Mike felt heat in his stomach. It rose all the way to his face. He ground his teeth together. “I wasn’t asking permission. I was telling you.”
“And I’m telling you ‘no.’ It’s not open for discussion.”
“Why would you want to leave here anyway?” His mother shook her head. “It doesn’t make sense. You have free room and board, I do your laundry—”
“That’s why.” Mike fought hard to keep his anger in check. “I need to learn how to take care of myself.”
“I have no faith you can do that,” his father said. “Now keep quiet. You’re upsetting your mother.”
“I can’t keep quiet.”
“Mike—”
“I’ve already given Dennis my share of the deposit.”
His father’s face twisted. He rose from the table and stomped upstairs.
His mother shook her head again. “You shouldn’t have, Michael. You shouldn’t have.”
After a moment, his father stormed back down. “You son of a bitch,” he roared. “You snuck into my room and stole that goddamn card.”
“I can’t steal what’s mine.”
His father paced back and forth by the table. “How much did you give him?”
His mother continued eating.
“Half of the deposit.”
“How much is that?”
He opened his mouth to answer, but somehow “That’s none of your business” came out instead.
“How dare you…What has happened to you? Your sister never would have talked to us like that.”
“I’m not her, though, am I?”
“You most certainly aren’t. She’d be ashamed of you if she could see how you treat us. And what would she think of you moving in with the son-of-bitch that took her from us?”
Mike shook his head. “Dennis didn’t take her, Dad. She killed herself.”
His mother gasped. Her spoon fell from her hand and clattered onto her plate.
His father’s eyes glistened. His jaw shook. “That bastard is why she did it.”
“No, you’re why she did it.” Lights flashed in Mike’s eyes and the world shifted. He blinked and found himself on the ground, his chair tipped over
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