[TWISTED METAL]  – Originally posted September 6th 2010)

  I head downstairs and wander into the kitchen, my bare feet sticking slightly to the linoleum beneath them. I stop at the fridge and open it without really knowing whether I’m hungry or thirsty or neither. Gram is sitting at the table with her reading glasses on, poring over what I know to be a bill but if I ask will be a bank statement.

  She doesn’t know yet that I’m leaving, or that I’ll be taking Libby with me. It’s news that would no doubt upset and relieve her at once. She doesn’t have the money to support us. Grandpa doesn’t work anymore and until recently I’d only been bringing in the most modest of paycheques.

  Good doesn’t begin to describe how good they’ve been to us over the last two years but there’s only so much my pride would let me get away with. I’d run from responsibility throughout my entire adult life, but now that my self-respect was at stake I was finally willing to step up to the plate. The first adult thing I’ve done since Meghan Murphy.

  Who knew I could hit homers?


~ by Joseph Blame on November 29, 2010.

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