Chapter 13

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Pirates. Why in hell am I thinking of pirates? Because I’m staring at the china closet and the shelf where Mom had all Dad’s old sports trophies, is now full of pirate statues and eye patches and nautical themed things. What in hell? Where are Dad’s trophies? He loved those things, especially after he got too old and sick to play baseball and football and everythingelseball anymore. I wondered if he’d known about—the other baby, my—half-brother. How old would he be now, just two years older than me? One? Who knows? Did I go to school with him? This reunion was for four classes—we’d always had a very small school and done it that way—might he even be there? Maybe I already knew him. D…his name started with, or had in it maybe, the letter D.

The phone rang. I jumped a foot. “Hello?” It seemed so strange to use a house phone again

“Hi, it’s me, Damon. I heard from your mother that she’s moved? Is that right?”