What right did I have to be more than Iwas? And why did it feel like more? What was wrong with being a boy andgrowing up to be a man like my father?... thought about my father and wondered what it really meant to be a manlike my dad. My dad is a great guy but my mother was the head of ourhousehold and we respected her rule. She was the sophisticated bad-asswho smoked the cigarettes in our family. She was the one who made theimportant decisions. She was the one who always had our attention. . Just passing time. Me occasionally glancing over at you. Then I noticed that Maria and you seemed to be in deep conversation. Last time I saw anything like that it didn't really register but what followed was the visit to the cove. I wonder what you two are cooking up now? A cave in the hills perhaps? I'm sure I'll find out.The evening ends, the usual pleasantries are exchanged; hand shaking, hugging, and kissing. Then we start our slow walk home. You seem very quiet until you turn to me. More

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