I arrived home from the funeral late that Wednesday afternoon. The weather had warmed and a slight drizzle had fallen on and off for two days. The good news is that it had gone along way to melting off the snow. The bad news was that the entire landscape looked like a giant mud puddle with an occasional island of green or white jutting out here and there.
The last few miles to the house were a blur for me. I began to think about the funeral and tears started to stream from my eyes. They were not the kind that accompanies sobs and moans; rather they were the slow meandering type that bleeds from a broken heart.
During the funeral and wake, I was given the honor of being seated with the family. I was seated as the third child between Tim and Ray. I was also one of the six paw bearers, which also included her four sons and baby brother. Why I had been afforded such an honor was beyond me. I knew that she had treated me as one of her own, but I never knew that her love for me was that strong.
When I think about her, I realize how fortunate I have been to have such a wonderful mother, and truly, she was my mother even if it was only in my heart. I also suspect that it was in her heart as well.
My tears were flowing not because I missed her. They were flowing because I was jealous of her. She had a peace about her that I craved but had never been able to achieve. I wondered that were my confidence in my eternal future as secure as hers were, then, maybe, just maybe, I’d have the peace that she so richly displayed.
I admired the fact that she died convinced beyond all doubts that she’d live again. She fully expected to be raised from the dead and to be with God, Jesus, and all those apostles forever. I was amazed that someone could have that much faith. I once asked her how she could hold on to her beliefs during hard times.
“Faith comes by hearing and by the hearing of the Word of God,” was her response. “That is why I read my Bible, go to mass and am constantly in contact with my priest. There has not been a single week in my life since the age of twenty-one that I have not gone to confessional. If you keep in touch with God, He’ll see you through any and all problems.”
I remember that my lame response to that was, “From you lips to the ears of God.” It had been my way of trying to blow her off without being cruel.
As the garage door inched its way up the runners to which it was attached, I took a deep breath and wiped the tears from my face. I deliberately took my time as I fought tried to regain my composure. Once of the methods of delay was to go back to the rear hatch on my Jeep and began shuffling through my bags.
A light breeze with a mist was blowing so I turned my face to it hoping that the coldness of that wind would distort my face enough so that my wife and child wouldn’t notice that I had been crying.
I stood there for a few minutes staring into nothingness and hoping the cold wind would numb my soul. As those tiny vapors pelted me, I took in a deep cleansing breath. As the cool air rushed down my throat and into my system, I closed my eyes and tried to focus. I thought about three of the funniest things I’d ever seen my child do and began to smile. I did it a second time just to ensure that the look of sadness had left my visage.
Once I was convinced that I had beaten my doldrums, I grabbed my bags, closed the door to the vehicle, walked into the garage and clicked the remote to lock the door.
As I made my way to the side door, I hear it unlock. It swung open and there was Kieran in his dinosaur pajamas standing in the middle of the foyer.
“Momma, dads home,” he bellowed as he jumped into my arms.
I pulled him into me and hug him for all I was worth. The instant we embraced I looked to my left and saw my wife coming down the hall. She wrapped her arms and the both of us.
“Group hug,” whispered my child as the three of us embraced.
“I missed you. Did you bring me anything?” His words we so low and fast I almost missed them.
“Maybe,” I said and then pulled him into me. The instant he began to squeeze me I looked at my wife and raised my eyebrows as if begging her for help.
She smile and mouthed the words, “In your closet.”
I raised my eyes again.
“In a large paper bag,” she mouthed.
I winked at her and whispered, “I love you.”
She smiled and winked at me.
I let go of our embrace and cupped my son’s face in my hand. “I’ll make you a deal. If you let me unpack, I believe I might find a toy…”
“Army tank!” he shouted.
I looked at my wife and she winked a second time and began to laugh.
“Of course, it’s an army tank,” I said. “What did you think it would be?”
“A gorilla or something like that.”
“Nope, I know my boy likes army tanks and dinosaurs.”
“Do I get a dinosaur too?”
I looked at my wife and she shook her head to indicate that we didn’t have any dinosaurs. “Nah, just an army tank.”
“That’s okay; I like World War II stuff too.”
“Let’s get out of here and let daddy unpack,” said my wife as she took him by the shoulders and began leading him to the living room.
“Do we have too?” he asked. “I want to see my army tank.”
“I’ll bring it out,” I responded. “Just as soon as I dig it out.”
“I won’t be crushed, will it?
I could see the look of concern in his eyes. They were as big as saucers. “Nah, it’ll be fine.”
He and his mother turned and made their way back to the living room. As they were walking down the hall my wife said, “Don’t forget to put those bags in the back of the closet.”
“I won’t and thanks.”
She turned and shot me naughty grin and a wink.
Three minutes later, I was walking in the living room holding a box containing a plastic one thirty-second scale World War II, German Panzer tank and its crew of two.
“How do you like this?” I asked as I handed it to my son.
His eyes began to shine and the most beautiful smile I’d ever seen lit up his face. He shook his head in excitement as he grabbed the toy from me.
“Wow, I don’t have this one. It’s a German tank.” He pointed to a symbol on the tank to illustrate his point. “That makes me five German tanks but only four American or British. I’ll need another on of them.”
“Whoa, you’d better slowdown. You haven’t even begun to play with this one and you’re already demanding another.”
I began to laugh and my wife joined in, but he looked at us stone faced.
“The Germans will win if they have the most tanks. I want our side to win.”
“We did,” I responded. “Give it back to me and I’ll open it for you.”
He obliged. It took me about fifteen minutes to open it. Between the seemingly endless number of twist ties they used to secure the toy to its box and his continuous banter about how long it was going to take to open, I thought I was never going to finish.
It took some effort, but I finally got the toy out of the box in which it came. I also removed the two soldiers that accompanied the tank. I put the officer in the hatch at the top of the vehicle and I put the drive in another opening. Once I was satisfied with what I had done, I gave it to my son.
He took it and grabbed me by the hand. “Let’s go up stairs and put this one on the table. You can help me.”
I looked at my wife and she nodded her approval as our son began to drag me up the stairs and towards his room.
When we got there, I noticed the four foot by three foot Thomas The Tank Engine table that pretty much took up half of the open space in his room. Sitting on the table was a battle scene that had been organized and set up by my child. On the table were several tanks, some bunkers and at least eighty hand painted soldiers with each being about three inches in height. The first thing that I noticed was that the British and American troops outnumbered the Germans at a clip of about three to one.
Kieran began clearing out a place for the new tank. Once he’d put it on the table, he looked at me and asked, “Do you think this tank’ll make the Germans too tough for us?”
I smiled and rubbed his head. “Nah, we outnumber them about three to one. I think we’ll be all right, don’t you?”
“I don’t know. I’ll need another American tank to know for sure.”
“Oh, is that how it is? You’re not happy with the one you got?”
“Yes, but we need another good guy one to make it even.”
“If you do well in school this week, I’ll get you another one.”
“Promise?”
“Yep.”
He wrapped his arms around my mid-section. Once he let go, he grabbed my hand and began pulling on it. “Play dad? I want to play army.”
“Just for a little while. I need to unpack and call work.”
“Momma,” he shouted. “Would you unpack for dad? He’s playing with me.”
“Okay returned my wife. Randy, are you boys hungry?”
“Nope,” replied my son. “We’re playing.”
I began to laugh as I heard my wife’s response. “Whatever.”
We spent the next hour or so fighting several pretend battles. In each, I had to be the Axis while my son was the Allies. Thanks to his overwhelming numbers and constant arguing over the loss of his soldiers, he was able to go undefeated on this day. As we were setting up for our sixth or seventh battle, my wife called to me. “Randy, the mail is here and there’s a large yellow envelope from your Uncle Donnie…”
“What did you say?” I interrupted.
“There’s a letter from your uncle.”
I jumped up without saying a word to my son and I ran through the hall and down the stairs and stopped at the foyer. My wife was closing and locking the door behind her when I arrived.
“Can I have the letter from Donnie?”
“What is it?”
“Answers, I hope. At least, that’s what he said it held.”
“Answers, are you sure?”
She handed the envelope toward me and I snatched it greedily.
I could see the surprise in her eyes when I grabbed it. “What’s so important about this letter?”
“Hopefully, it will contain the answer to the questions I’ve had all my life. Hopefully, it will tell me why I’ve been the outcast and freak in my family. Maybe it’ll tell me why my own mother hates me so.”
I inserted my finger into the top of the envelope and began rocking it back and forth across the package. Within seconds, the letter was open. I took a deep breath and hesitated. “What if this is not what you were expecting,” I thought to myself. “What if this doesn’t supply the answers you’ve been looking for the past forty years? Once you read it, you can never put this knowledge away. Is it worth it?”
I put my hand into the envelope and began feeling around. I don’t know what I was looking for, perhaps a key or something like that. Something within me told me that there was a vault somewhere and it contained all the secrets to my life. That had been the same fantasy I have been carrying around with me since childhood. I thought I had gotten rid of that bit of childishness, but apparently, I hadn’t.
All I found was a stack of paper that had been stapled together. I clutched it and slowly pulled it from the envelope. I gave a small gasp when I saw the top of the papers break the surface of the package. Once the stack was about half an inch out of the covering, I stopped and began to look at it. I could tell by the light blue line on the left-hand side of the top sheet that this was notebook paper.
I stopped and took a deep breath and began debating whether I should go any farther. Part of me was saying that there were secrets that were best left unknown, but there was another part of me that was being eaten alive by the curiosity of it all. That part of me won and with a swift jerk, I yanked the stack from the cocoon in which it had been sleeping.
I pulled it out face down. I twisted my hand so that the first page was now facing me. The top of the first hand written was printed in large letters and it read, “To My Beloved Son.” The letter, which was written in cursive, didn’t begin until about half way down the page.
I looked at my wife and said, “I need to read this alone. Do you mind if I take it into my office and read it?”
“No,” she responded as she reached out and pulled me into her. She wrapped her arms around me and quickly let me go. “Randy, you’re trembling. What in the world does that letter contain?”
“Hopefully, the answers to all my questions.”
“You mean the reasons you and your mother don’t get along.”
I crossed my fingers and raised them up so that she could see them. “Hopefully. Do you mind?”
“Are you sure this is what you want?”
“No, but I have to know why I’ve been treated like an outcast by my own parents.”
“Very well, I won’t stop you. I hope it gives you the peace of mind you’re seeking, but I’m afraid it’s only going to create more problems for you.”
“Me to, but the truth has to come out. I need some type of closure.”
She tried to smile, “You have Kieran and me and the baby and you always will have.”
“I know and I’m grateful for that, but I have to read this. I’ve been wondering about this all my life and am not about to let it go. Who knows, maybe my childhood fantasy of being a prince of some foreign land who was sent away for his own protection may be true?”
We both laughed nervously at that. I then kissed her and made my way to my office. Once there I sat down at the desk. I couldn’t stop trembling for several seconds and thus was unable to read the letter.
“Get a grip,” I whispered as I was forced to lay the letter on the desk in order to read it due to my uncontrollable shaking. I took a deep breath and began reading.
To My Beloved Son:
If you are reading this, then I have passed onto my reward or damnation depending on God and His mercies. I have asked Donnie to pass this on to you should I not make it. He’s the only one I can trust because he has kept my secret for over forty years and I believe he’ll take it to the grave with him.
What I am about to tell you only three people in the world knows. Originally, there were five of us, but two have died and that leaves only me, your mother and Donnie. If you are reading this, then you are the sixth person to know the secret and you will still make the third person living to know it.
Let me start by asking your forgiveness. I am completely to blame for what happened. It’s not your mother’s fault and it’s not your fault. The blame is to be placed where it belongs, which is completely on me. I am solely responsible for what happened and I am ready for the “Great Judge” to administer punishment to me.
Let me start from the beginning. I met your mother when she was waiting tables at the “Wayland Wasps” restaurant. I had just been appointed shift foreman of the maintenance crew for “Wheelwright Mining” and I was out celebrating with some of my friends. We’d had a few drinks and decided to stop in a grab a burger before heading out to get into something.
Your mother was waiting on us that night. I tell you one thing she was the prettiest girl I ever laid my eyes on. I was twenty-eight years old and she was barely nineteen. Me and the boys gave her a hard time that night, but she never stopped smiling. When we left, I gave her a five dollar tip. That was a lot of money back then.
That night when I went to sleep in the little apartment I had, I couldn’t get her off my mind. I laid there and thought about her all night. I imagined what it would be like to get to know her and I made myself a promise to do exactly that.
The next day was Saturday and I slept in late. I assumed that your mom worked in the evenings so I was going to wait until about four in the afternoon before I drove down to Wayland to see her. I was having trouble with my car and decided to work on it. The big reason I wanted to do this was to keep my mind occupied so that I wouldn’t think about your mother. By the time three o’clock rolled around, I hadn’t finished fixing my car. I bummed daddy’s truck and told him I’d be getting home late that evening. He agreed providing I had the truck home in time for him to be at church the next morning. He was preaching and didn’t want to be late. I agreed and off I went. After a bath, that is.
When I got there, your mother was busy waiting on a table so I went up to the bar and took a seat. When the other waitress, an older woman, asked me what I wanted, I told her that I wanted to get to know the other waitress. She laughed and point towards a table and said, “You need to be sitting over there.” I smiled and tipped her before I ran to that table.
As I took a seat, the older lady, called to your mother, “Fran, you have a customer at table three.”
“Can’t you get ‘em?” she asked.
“Nope, this one wants you to be his waitress.”
Your mother looked over at me and I waved at her timidly. She smiled and acknowledged me with a nod of her head. I returned her smile and must have looked like a complete idiot because there were about thirty people in that restaurant at that time and they all began to laugh at me. I didn’t care. I was so lost in your mother’s smile, they could have shot at me and I would not have noticed.
My heart skipped a beat when Fran said, “Okay, I’ll take that table.”
“I thought you might,” returned the other lady.
When she approached my table I nearly exploded. She was the most beautiful thing I’d ever saw. She had dark eyes and hair. She looked like a Cherokee princess standing there. I wanted to scoop her up in my arms and plant a kiss on her right then and there but was afraid she’d reject me.
She winked at me and asked, “You want the usual?”
It took me a few seconds to realize what she was saying. I had been so lost in her beauty I didn’t hear what she had said. Unsure of else to do, I released a great big grin and said, “Sure.” A few minutes later, she brought me out a hamburger with everything and an order of fries. She brought me a chocolate milkshake to drink. Let me tell you something, even though I hated milkshakes and mayonnaise, that was one of the best meals I ever had. Over forty-five years later, the wonderful taste of that meal still lingers in my mine.
I thanked her and began eating. She stopped by my table five more times in order to check on me. I didn’t know at the time, but the reason she gave me so much attention was because she knew I was there to ask her on a date, but I was too afraid to ask. In my mind, a girl that looked like her would never be willing to be seen in public with a guy like me.
After I finished my food, she brought me my check and asked, “Is there anything else I can get you?”
I wanted to ask her out, but was afraid she’d decline. That’s why I shrugged my shoulders and smiled at her. I dropped a five dollar tip on her table even though my food cost less than a dollar and a quarter. When she rung up my bill, I gave the other woman two dollars and told her to keep the change. With that, I nodded my head to the woman and began to exit the restaurant.
As I reached the door, the woman called to me. “Ain’t you going to ask Francis out on a date?”
“I better not.”
“Why not?” asked the woman.
I shrugged my shoulders not knowing what else to do. “She wouldn’t go out with a guy like me.”
The woman, who was heavy set, began to laugh. Her whole body giggled and shook as she roared.
“Lord o’ Mercy,” she declared. “I ain’t in all my days seen a man as dumb as you.”
The entire restaurant heard her and began to laugh. I shot several of the customers angry glances. Each time I did the laughter became a little less enthusiastic.
“You don’t get it?” asked the older waitress. She pointed towards your mother. “That child has done everything but agree to marry you and you still ain’t got the nerve to ask her to court you.”
Again, the crowd exploded with laughter. This time I wasn’t angered by her words. They delighted me. She had just told me that Francis was wanting to see me and that caused me nearly to explode with delight.
I walked over and planted a big kiss on that woman. “Thank you,” I said as I let go of her.
She began fanning herself with her hand. She then looked at your mother and spoke. “Frannie, if you don’t want ‘im, I’ll take ‘im. That boy can flat out kiss.”
“Nah, I’ll take ‘im if he’ll have me.”
“I’ll take you,” I shouted before I realized what I was saying. Again, the crowd roared from laughter.
“Ye getting’ a good’un,” hooted one of the men. That was followed by several, “Amens.”
“Fran’s the catch of a lifetime,” came a voice from somewhere in that diner.
“Shut up!” shouted the other waitress. “They ain’t married, yet.”
“Aren’t you moving a little fast?” I asked to keep from being overwhelmed by the crowd.
The woman laughed and clapped her hands together. “You’ll be married within a year. I’ll guarantee it.”
“Here, here,” bellowed a female voice from somewhere off to the right of me.
Your mom called home and told her dad that she was going to catch a ride home with a friend that evening. She also stated that she wanted him to meet a fellow she’d met. He agreed.
“You’d better get him to like you,” stated your mother. “If he doesn’t like you, then I can’t go out with you. Is that understood?”
Things were moving so fast for me, I didn’t know what to do so I nodded my head in agreement.
I drove her home that evening. Even though it was over sixteen miles from her house to Wayland, it seemed as though the trip took only a couple of minutes. As I pulled into her parents’ driveway, she looked at me and asked, “Are you ready to meet daddy?”
I swallowed real hard and nodded my head. She hopped out of the truck and motioned for me to follow her up to house and I did. I noticed that a light was on inside the house but was secretly hoping that her parents were in bed. She opened the door and walked in to the house pulling me in as she went.
There were two people sitting on the couch and they stood when we entered. They were a short man with dark hair that had started to gray around the temple area and a woman with jet black hair pulled into a bun.
Fran introduced me to her parents. “Mommy and daddy, this is Vernon Johnson and he wants to court me. I told him that he’d have to run it by you first.”
Your grandmother smiled at me and that put me at ease, then I saw your grandfather. He gave me the oddest look you ever saw. I felt like I was a prize bull on display at a county fair.
He stared at me for several seconds before he spoke. “I’ve got to know a few things before I let you date my daughter. The first one is, just what are your intentions towards my girl?”
“Completely honorable,” I answered.
“Let me finish,” he snapped and then you can speak. I was stunned by his bluntness so I stood there in complete silence.
“Who are your parents?” he asked. “How old are you and what do you do for a living?” He paused and then looked at me. “Well, go ahead.”
“My parents are Walter Johnson and Becky Combs Johnson.”
“Becky Combs,” interrupted your grandmother. “Ain’t she one of Ferdinand Combs’s girls?”
“Yes,” I replied.
True to her nature, your grandmother put her two cents in and was as plain as she could be. “I don’t like the idea of my daughter foolin’ with any of that Ferd Combs bunch. A sorrier lot never walked this creek. They’re the biggest bunch of liars and rogues that I’ve ever seen. They’d snatch the quarters off a dead man’s eyes if they got the chance.”
Edward looked at his wife and shook his head. “Effie, this boy can’t help who his family is. Besides, I know Walter and he’s as good an old boy that ever was. And, old Ferd had nineteen or twenty kids, not all of ‘em could’ve turned out bad.”
“He had twenty-four kids and three wives,” I said. “I know all about my mother’s family. I grew up with it. We got blamed for every thing bad that happened. Now we probably were guilty of most of it, but not all of it.”
“I can’t see old Walt marrying a bad girl and that’s a fact,” your grandfather stated.
Effie snorted her disagreement. “Still, I don’t like the idea of my daughter being mixed up with that bunch of rogues.”
“What have you got against my family?” I was stunned by her sheer hatred of them.
Your granddad pointed to Effie. “Her brother, Isaiah, got one of your aunt’s, Rosemary, I believe it was, pregnant and he refused to marry her.”
“She was the biggest rip in the county and that baby could have belonged to anybody.”
“Probably,” agreed Edward, “but it belonged to Ize and you know it. The little girl looks just like ‘im.”
“Cousin Sally,” I asked stunned by the revelation. “Cousin Sally is also Frannie’s cousin.” I shook my head in shock. We’d known that Sally was illegitimate, but we never knew that she belonged to one of the most prominent men in the county.
“She’s probably as big a rip as her mother,” injected Effie.
“Ma’am, I’m trying to make a good impression,” I said, “but if you’re going to talk about Aunt Rosie, you’re going to make me mad.”
Effie harrumphed but remained silent.
I was still mad so I spoke up when I should have remained silent. “Aunt Rosemary married James Hylton. The man raised Sally as his own. He and Rosie had three other kids. Sally is in college, she’s making straight “A’s”, and she’s making a teacher. Uncle Jim is a teacher and a preacher and Rosie works for a bank in Prestonsburg.
“Together, Rosie and Jim had three boys: the twins Darrel and Larrel and Ronnie Joe. They all three play basketball for the “Prestonsburg Blackcats.” They took them to the state final four last year. They’ll probably go again this year. All three of them boys are being offered scholarships to play ball. They’re all going to make something of themselves. Darrel wants to be a doctor, Larrel wants to be an engineer and Ronnie Joe talks of being a lawyer.”
Edward looked at his wife and said, “See Effie, the girl turned out all right.”
“Thanks to Aunt Rosie and Uncle Jim,” I interrupted.
Effie blew out a puff of air, but said no more. We talked for another hour or so before I left. As I was leaving, Edward shook my hand and said, “I’ll agree to let you court my daughter. The way I see it, any child of Walt’s is good enough for me, but let me warn you about something. If you hurt her, Walt and the entire Ferd Combs bunch won’t be able to save you from me.”
I looked at him and smiled. “I wouldn’t want it any other way.”
We went out the next weekend. From our first date, she told me that she had been married at the age of sixteen and had a child by that marriage. Her husband had abandoned her so she divorced him. It made no difference to me. I loved her and loved your sister as well. With in a year, we were married. My grandfather was the man who married us.
I stopped reading for a second and tried scanning through the papers. I was having difficulty finding what I was looking for because my dad’s penmanship was almost as poor as mine. He had written on both sides of the paper. I scanned each of the front sides and then flipped it over and tried scanning the back sides but had no luck. I repeated this sequence a second time and then a third. Once I realized I wasn’t going to find it that way, I began reading again.
I had gotten about half way through the sixth page when I heard a knock tapping against my door. I started to say something but the door opened and in walked my son carrying a few of boxes of games. I couldn’t tell what the other ones were, but the box on top read, “Sorry.”
“Dad,” said Kieran as he entered the room. “Need you.”
I smiled “need you” was what he said any time he wanted something. It could be a drink of water and chocolate chip cookie or someone to tell him a story what time he sat on the potty. “Need you” was his catch all phrase to get your attention.
Although, it could some times be a small nuisance because his questions seemed endless, I loved it when he called for me. It made me feel loved, needed and important to my child when he called. He was such an inquisitive boy. I loved it when he’d ask questions, which seemed to be to be all the time. I’d answer all that I could. Any that I couldn’t, I’d help him look up on the Internet.
I was just as full of questions at his age. The only difference is that I’m perfectly willing to stop and talk to him and hopefully answer his questions. Depending on their mood, my parents would either answer them for you or send you away from them with a scold that made you feel as though you’d been put on this earth to do nothing more than aggravate them. On several occasions, my mother would whip me for asking such questions. Once she hit me with a broomstick when she said I was trying to make her look stupid, when all I asked was how bats flew.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
“Let’s play games.”
“Dad’s kinda busy right now, can we play later.”
“No, you said yesterday that come today we’d play and it’s today, so play.”
“Can’t I have about half an hour to finish what I’m doing?”
“You doing somebody’s taxes?”
“No, I’m reading something grandpa wrote me.”
“You can read that any time, now play.”
“Can’t I have just five minutes?”
There must have been an edge to my voice even though I hadn’t noticed it. He winced when I spoke and I noticed some of the glimmer went out of his eyes. He started to turn and leave, but I called after him.
“Kieran, if you want me to, I’ll play.”
A smile shot across his face and his eyes brightened. “Let’s go in the kitchen so momma can play too.” When he spoke, his voice not loud enough to be a shout, but it came awfully close.
“What games have you got there?” I inquired as I laid the letter down and reluctantly followed him.
I’ve known many people in this world that claimed to have had a rough childhood so I don’t hold myself out as being unusual, but I am different. The fact that I never felt loved or protected as a kid, made me all the more determined that my child was going to get those qualities from me.
If I was sad or depressed as child, I was called a whiner and was told to “suck it up and forget about it.” I, on the other hand, take a different approach. Whenever my child has had a bad week, we throw him a party. I create banners and flags. We throw a “Kieran Appreciation Day.” We take him out to his favorite restaurant and make the biggest fuss over him. We do all we can to cheer him up.
I don’t want him to be like his dad. I don’t want him to internalize all things. I don’t want him to feel so unloved that he nearly has a nervous breakdown at the age of nineteen. In this world, he’s going to have enough gunk to deal with, there’s no use in me adding any more to that.
As we sat down at the table, I looked at Kieran and gave him a mocking critical look. “You’re not going to try and cheat today are you?” I asked.
“I don’t have to cheat,” he responded.
“But you do anyway,” I said and then grinned at him.
“I’ll try not to it this time.” He tried to keep from laughing, but failed.
“Oh brother,” I heard his mother say and I nodded my head in agreement.