?Well,? Father smiled, ?Bill Shakespeare he ain't!? ?I thought it was good!? Mr. Cook remarked. ?Okay,? Father grinned, patting my head, ?Very sweet.? ?You have quite the admiring son,? Mrs. Cook said to him. ?Very much so,? Mother said, handing me my notebook, ?In fact, by tomorrownight I want it written on the cover of that notebook and all of your books,understand?? ?Yes Ma'am,? I replied, taking the notebook. Mother had drawn a huge heartwith an arrow through it, and the word DADDY inside. She smirked at me. ?Well we better get going,? Mrs. Cook said, turning to me, ?Why don't yousay goodbye to everyone?? ?Okay,? I said, dropping to my hands and knees. ?Who's driving?? Mother asked as I kissed her boots. ?I will,? Mrs. Cook replied. I began kissing Father's boots. ?No tongue this time!? He bellowed, causing everyone to laugh. ?Why not?? Mrs. Cook smiled, ?He might be good at it!? Mother put her hand on Mrs. Cook's shoulder, laughing hard. I turned and kissed Mrs. Cook's heels.. I could barely see in the dark room, but I knew it was you. Your hands were rough and I could still smell the oil on your hands. I knew you were clean, but you always smelled like the cars you worked on. You weren’t wearing a shirt and I thought I heard you sniff, like you were, or had been crying.“Daddy…” I started to say and sit up, worried about you. Scared that you were hurting, crying, afraid – not knowing what you were there for. Not knowing that I was the one I needed to be worried about.“Shhh…” You kept rubbing my belly. “Go back to sleep. I’m sorry I woke you.”“What’s wrong?”You just kept rubbing me, and kept crying, and I noticed something else. A sound I’d never heard before, but would become familiar with. “TickTickTick” is what it sounded like – a fast watch ticking in the middle of the night. I listened to the sound and tried to see your face through the darkness.“I’m so sorry.” I heard you whisper.“Why?” I whispered, almost afraid of the answer.You didn’t answer. You.
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