20Jerry was seldom home in the evening and Con often worked late so we ate dinner separately. Once a week though, Con and I drove over to Rainbow Grocery, the community store on Sixteenth Street, to buy food.
Are you ready? Con asked after he finished the glass of apple juice he was drinking.
Sure, I replied picking up the shopping list I just completed and going into my room to get a jacket.
It was a cool February night and Con walked ahead carrying a cardboard box with a couple of empty bottles that clanked as he moved. I followed with a large bag of reusable plastic and paper bags.
I’m parked around the corner, he said.
I walked a bit faster to catch up. Con pulled the car keys out of his pocket. A tall, man coming toward us gave me a good, long look and warm smile before going int
