Errant Thoughts Story, Part 7

Dave sat down at the dinner table, "I got a job. Mom's old church runs this charity to feed senior citizens. They used to drop off a box of food once a week, but to save costs they want to reuse the cardboard boxes, so I ride along and help put the food away. The other days I'll be doing whatever they need help with. It doesn't pay much and I have to bring my own lunch." He watched Susan, hoping for a positive reaction.

She smiled at him, "That's good news. Thank you." She finished slicing the bread and placed it next to the pot of soup before sitting down. Fortunately, flour was still relatively cheap so they always had bread. The soup was mostly beans with a few carrots; meat never made the menu anymore, not on their budget. "Is it in walking distance?"

"Yes, I can get there in about forty minutes. Hank, the old guy who does all the maintenance, is kind of crabby, but he needs help. Oh, I almost forgot!" Dave jumped up and got a bag from near the door. "This was leftover fruit from packing the food boxes. The workers get to take home the perishable extras."

"Listen to you talking 'perishable'," Danny laughed.

"Hey! I did work at a grocery store. I know stuff." Dave pretended to take offense.

Later that evening, the boys sat in their room and talked. "You know, it was weird being at Gran's house, but it was so different that it didn't seem quite real. Here, well, it's even weirder because I've spent so many nights on the bottom bunk that it feels like home. And it's like someone robbed you of all your electronics. I don't know how to say it, but it feels more real."

Danny sank a bit lower in the bean bag chair and thought about it. "Yeah, I guess so. It happened so gradually that I didn't really notice, then sometimes it hits me. It got bad when you moved away; it's easier having someone to talk to. I don't want to dump on Mom, you know?" He sat up to emphasize his point, "We have to make things as easy for her as we can. There isn't anyone else who will help her."

"You know I will."

Two days later, Danny came home early when they let school out at noon to celebrate the end of the school year. Stopping to pick up the mail on the way, he stared at the envelope addressed to his mom. 'Eugene Dickson' was the name on the return address. He knew the name of his grandfather and wondered why he was writing to them. Shoving the rest of the mail into his backpack, he ripped the envelope open and read the letter. "What the hell? Bastard! How dare he!" Furious, Danny tore the letter to shreds and left them on the ground.

That night he told Dave about the letter. Dave sat up so fast he hit his head on the top bunk. "Wait a minute, he said that about his own grandson? What kind of freak is he?"

"Mom must be desperate to ask him for help," Danny said glumly.

"But he really said he didn't care if you starved?" Dave shook his head. "I don't get it. As much as I hate my cousin, I don't want him to die and you've never done anything to hurt your grandfather."

"Well, that's why I tore up the letter. Better Mom thinks he ignored her than to read that crap." Danny threw a pillow when Dave didn't respond, "Hey! Are you listening to me?"

Dave turned slowly, "I've got an idea."

Part 8