It wasn’t strange for dad to take us out for ice cream in his patrol car. But it was strange for him to stop in Irish Alley where we knew he’d gotten the scars from the time we were too young to remember. And it was new for him to invite mom. The engine ticked. We licked our cones. She chewed her nails. Dad smoked. Two bums watched from their nest of dirty blankets.
“Guys,” he said with a sigh, and his brown eyes met our green ones in the rearview mirror, “It’s time I told you about your dad.”
My brother looked confused. Quickly, I sucked up the last of my mint chocolate chip.
1 comments:
so what did he say?
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