My dad was acting as if we had won the lottery. We were eating out every other night with business partners and their families. It was an absolute nig...tmare and I was ready to just go back home and go back to the life that we were living before. At least back then, even though we didn’t have the money, we were happy. No one in my family really smiles anymore. “Yeah,” my father spoke up amongst a sea of people surrounding a table not quite big enough to hold us all. “We love to get away to the. Que sera sera. It was some weeknight, might have been March, where the only people home were myself and Mr. Michaels. Mr. Michaels was nice, his first name was Jeff, but I still always called him Mr. Michaels, just force of habit to address adults by their last name. If you squinted you could see where he resembled his son. Where Brian had hard lines and chiseled muscles, Mr. Michaels was just softer, more weathered away. He was in his late forties, and did something with accounting or some. More

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