Big Boys

“Big boys don’t cry,” Dad said. “And you’re my big boy, right?”


He put a TRANSFORMERS band-aid on my knee, and let me go outside again.

Momma came home at 5:30. I wanted to stay outside, so I pretended not to notice. She makes me come in when she gets home, but sometimes she forgets. She forgot today so
when it got almost dark, I snuck in the back and tip-toed to see what they were doing.

Momma was pulling her airplane bag thingy to the door.

“It doesn’t have to be like this,” he said. “You can stay. I can fix it.”

“No. You can’t. And even if you could, I don’t want it fixed. I’m with Jake now.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“Yes, I do. I love him.”

She left.

“What’s for dinner?” I asked, coming into the room. He didn’t know I was there.

“Pizza. Go wash your hands,” he told me.

Pizza is my favorite. I wondered if Momma was eating with us, but as I walked to the bathroom, Daddy sat down on the couch and put his head in his hands so I didn’t ask. I guess big boys do cry.

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