The kitchen was blessedly quiet; nothing moved but the hands on the clock. A novel sat on the table, but it was long forgotten. Even as he’d tried to read the words, his mind had been a million miles away. Ghosts of Thanksgivings past haunted him. They snickered along with their cousin, Future, who was making a fairly strong case in Randy’s head that Randy was going to be alone forever.
His mother had retired several hours prior, leaving him ample time to sit with his father and discuss everything from the fiscal future of f*******: to the political platform against homosexuality in Russia. Brandy and wine had slipped down their throats as if they were water, and when his father had finally risen out of the kitchen chair to head to the guest room, his father had been more than wobbly.
Ra
