Teach Me New Tricks

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f the truck. I glanced over, checking to make sure my sixteen-year-old son was still breathing, and had to smile

eed him to be pissed at me for anything else. I seemed to be able to piss him off with the sim

ion. The radio had gone in and out, leaving me in silence while he listene

e in Conroe, Texas. My real estate career had turned me onto the area long ago. I had dreamed of retiring to the growing

back deck and sipping sweet tea. Life was unfair. My wife of twenty years had been killed instantl

ife for complete strangers. I had to let go of the anger. The anger had driven me i

use in Minnesota was only making it difficult to move forward. At least for me it was. Olin didn’t seem to give a shit one way

b pretending he couldn’t. “Olin, I need gas. I’m going to grab somethin

ungry,” he

old enough to know if

been a long two days of non-stop driving. I was tired of si

” I asked the young man behind the immac

said and quickly

in front of the Slurpee machine, a bag of chips in his hand. Not hungry

pied as well, not wanting to pressure him to hurry up. The kid was prickly at best, and any littl

her. His thick black hair was all me. He was the perfe

ting the snacks and drinks we had picked up. I smiled at the yo

ith a smile. “Tr

home,”

look like a

ed. “I’

, help you learn how to walk wi

I’m comfortabl

amusement. “How about some of our wor

I sure

rky. I’d be happy to give you a free sample,” sh

,” Olin said, dropping a pack of gu

e, then Olin, then ba

nd nodded.

for you. I’m sure you w

son who wasn’t much younger than her had done the trick. The goodies w

ch. Olin climbed back into the truck, a scowl on his face. “I’m not

mommy for you period, but it would definitely not be

ou making me live here so you ca