"Well, yeah, that would be a good time," Glen conceded. "I don't know, enjoying something a movie, whatever," Glen replied. "And what is a good time exactly?" Henry asked. "Well, when you go out with a girl, why are you going out with her?" Henry asked. That's one thing that always creates a sense of purpose." "That's just what you can see on the outside," Henry said. "I know that your leg is really messed up and that you can't bend your knee," Glen said. "Not because I got hurt, but because of the effect getting hurt had on me," Henry replied. "When I had my accident, well, I have problems and your mother just felt it would be better if we didn't share a bed any longer," Henry replied. "Why do you sleep on the sofa?" Glen asked. "If I knew the answer to that, I wouldn't be sleeping on this sofa," Henry replied, taking a big slug of the beer. "Dad, why is life so strange?" Glen asked when he returned from the kitchen with a Budweiser for each of them. "Get us a couple of beers and we'll talk about it." "I don't know what I'm doing, or why, or what I want to do, or even who I am," Glen replied with a big sigh. "At your age?" Henry asked, then laughed. "Same shit, different day," Glen replied, flopping into a chair facing the sofa. "How was work?" Henry asked, waking up when Glen entered, yawning and stretching, then scratching his hairy beer belly, wearing only his ubiquitous boxer shorts. His mother Karen was not yet home from work where she was the secretary to an accountant. He no longer worked, having been injured on his job as a construction carpenter and had qualified for early Social Security benefits due to his inability to work. He hadn't been inclined towards athletics of any sort, either, and had only dated sporadically, uncomfortable and unsure of himself when it came to girls.Īrriving home, he found Henry asleep on the sofa where he had been sleeping for half a dozen years now for some reason unknown to Glen. He had been an ambivalent student in high school, getting decent grades, but not drawing any notice for his mental prowess, which he either didn't have or kept so suppressed as to amount to the same thing. Glen was a good-looking young man with dirty-blonde hair and blue eyes, 6'2", but on the slender side.
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Glen had reacted by becoming inordinately close to him, probably some response to his biological father having abandoned him, something which had scarred him deeply psychologically, always wondering if it had been something about him that had driven him away.
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Henry Kucker had been a good father substitute, never showing anything but care and concern for his newly acquired stepson. His father had left when he was just a young boy and his mother had remarried shortly thereafter. At 19, he thought ruefully on the fact that he really had no life, didn't know what he wanted to do, or even who he was. Glen Suxton finished his shift at Pizza Hut, the time seeming to have crawled along. I hope you enjoy the story if not, such is life.
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