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Show 252 through the parking lot, and out into the street. For a number of blocks he drove, he didn't talk. This was not like him. She waited, feeling his large presence beside her, but not turning to him. Not yet. What was on his mind? Another half dozen blocks went by. "You're kind of quiet this evening," she finally said. "That's not much like me, huh?" "No, it isn't." "Not much like ol' Roger Green." That surprised her, the tone of his voice. "Look," she said, "is something the matter?" "Nothing that a million dollars wouldn't fix." "Oh, is that all." At least he wanted to talk about it. "Well, what is it?" "In about-" he glanced at his watch, "four and a half hours, it's going to be a new year. And all day, I've been thinking: I'm eighteen years old, I've lived with my parents all my life. And it's going to be this way for another four and a half years. At least." "What's wrong with that?" "Oh, you know what I'm talking about." She did, but she sensed that it would be best not to say anything. "It's the old under-the-thumb game. Keep the kid under your thumb for just as long as you can." "Your parents aren't that hard to be around," she said carefully. |