~ ~ ~



Bob says, “I was the one. . not born with gifts. I was the one about whom people said, This is a boy without gifts. I wasn’t the son meant for anything, I was never meant to be the great man. Runt, they called me, sissy they said. Mama’s boy, what shall we do with him? Not born with gifts, I had, uh, only my will. My brothers and sisters were born with gifts, then one by one they were gone and left no more shadows in which to hide. No longer were their gifts for me to serve, when I no longer was a middle brother but the oldest. . when I was left by default then I made out of my will what I could. You know, most of my life,” he says nodding at the house in the distance, “I would have beaten any man who said or hinted that my father had anything to redeem,” and up until he says it, Reg wouldn’t have imagined this small man beating up anyone; but now he can. Bob turns to Reg. “Sooner or later you have to see the sins of the father for what they are. Your Mr. Churchill understood things more clearly. It doesn’t mean I don’t love my father. It doesn’t mean I didn’t spend my life trying to make him as proud of me as he was of my brothers and sisters.” He looks back at the house. “I do worry if tomorrow is a mistake.”


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