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Show -37- Peppermint Monday for him. But I couldn't lie to Russ, no matter how good I was at lying, he deserved better than that. He deserved the truth, no matter how painful. Supper was quieter than usual. Russ hadn't been hungry, so ma said he could be excused. He was in the family room watching television, or at least sitting in front of the television. Russ never watched as much t.v. as most kids, and when he did it was detective shows. He had told me once he would like to be a detective. He didn't say, " When I grow up I want to be a detective," like most kids would've. He just wanted to be a detective. I guess he knew he'd never grow up. Pa didn't talk about faculty meetings, Sonders' crazy ideas, or how much spring work he still had to do. He sat their quietly stirring his mashed potatoes as if they hadn't been mashed enough. Pa hated lumpy mashed potatoes, but I don't think he even knew what was on his plate tonight. He looked older too, as if his hair had grayed during the time he'd sat at the table. Ma had a faraway look in her eyes, much farther than Chicago, which was where she usually thought about. I'd rather my parents yelled at me and Jason than ignore us. I understood their moods, and more importantly I understood why, but I still didn't like the atmosphere. I didn't like the depressing silence. They were acting as if we'd already buried Russ. I left the table without excusing myself, which under normal circumstances would never have been allowed. I figured Russ probably wanted to be alone, but I went in the family room anyway. He wasn't in his wheelchair, but lay on the couch huddled under an afghan. He didn't look up as I entered the room, but kept his eyes glued to the television program. It was some doctor show, the kind Russ detested. Ma never even watched the popular soap operas because so many of them centered around |
