Fiction, remember? Imagination is paramount!
He put his arm around her, but turned his head away. “But she did, and it’s over.”
He stopped, head throbbing so he rubbed it again, angrily turning around to face her once more. He marched back to where she stood. Shouting now, control gone, he said, “Just drop it! She’s dead and buried. Don’t ever mention her name again or I’m gone. Do you understand me?”
“Sure. Green Bay’s a cinch to win. But Mom, getting back to your announcement, you know they say not to make rash decisions after a death in the family ...”
I smiled again, reaching over to pat Amanda’s hand, saying, “I was nervous the first time I tried, too, and I'll be happy to show you the magic.” Then I whispered, “It’s not nearly as hard as it looks.” I turned to my son again, my tone more serious. “Ben, I just know this feels right for me. Besides, Sharon is there and she says the job will be perfect for me.”
“Aunt Sharon? That’s because she never left Lubbock after you two roomed together at Tech, and she doesn’t know any other place.”
“I know, I know,” Ben said quickly raising his hands in protest, looking at his daughters, ages three and four, playing nearby. “But my generation does that … and you guys are ...” he stammered, “You are …you know … um, old … for that kind of thing.”
“Sorry, son. End of discussion.”