You and Me, Pal
Some bonds can never be broken.
“I hate you!”
The words reverberated down the hallway and were punctuated by a door slam. The big man spun on his heel, starting back down the hall but she slid in front of him, cutting off his charge with one small hand on his barrel chest. “Jesus, Phil, must you be so hard on the kid? Leave him be.”
His eyes flashed steely gray. “Doors don’t get slammed in this house. That’s the rule and he knows it!”
She placed a second hand on his chest and pushed him backwards into the kitchen.
“You took his bike away. It’s a major part of his life, let him be mad about it.” She kept moving him backwards until his legs hit a chair and he sat. Pulling up another chair she perched in front of him, knees touching. and took his hands, big and gnarled from countless collisions with helmets and cleats, into hers.
“Face it, Phil. Peter doesn’t like football and football doesn’t like him. Yes, pretending to go to practice was a bonehead move, but this — how you’re acting now — is exactly why he did it. He’s not Vinny, he will never be Vinny.” Phil avoided her gaze, focusing on a speck on the floor.
“Peter is brains, not brawn. He cannot follow in your footsteps, it’s just not who he is.” She put a finger under his chin and lifted…
