This was not good. This was a sign of battles still in progress, and it made me feel like an invader in my own territory.
He rolled over and kind of groaned, then curled up tighter under his skinny little quilt
and muttered some pretty unfriendly-sounding stuff into his pillow.
I beat it into the kitchen and poured myself a killer bowl of corn flakes.
And I was about to drown it in milk when my mother comes waltzing in and snags it away from me.
“You are going to wait, young man,” she says. “This family is going to have Sunday breakfast together.”
“But I’m starving!” “So are the rest of us. Now go! I’m making pancakes, and you’re taking a shower. Go!”
Like a shower’s going to prevent imminent starvation.
But I headed down to the bathroom, and on my way I noticed that the family room was empty.
The quilt was folded and back on the armrest, the pillow was gone… it was like I’d imagined the whole thing.
At breakfast my father didn’t look like he’d spent the night on the couch.
No bags under his eyes, no whiskers on his chin. He was decked out in tennis shorts and a lavender polo shirt,
전체재생
다음페이지
문장검색