CHAPTER TWO
I put my car in reverse and backed out of my brother’s place and grudgingly headed down the block to my parents. The neighborhood was nice. Your typical neighborhood with cookie cutter homes in the usual cul-de-sac layout. Mom and Dad’s place was just outside the development, with their backyards facing each other. I remember Dad complaining about how, after twenty-some years, the view would change now that the old farmer, Jeb Long, was dead and his stinking, rotten, greedy kids sold the land to a Baltimore developer.
As I pulled into the gravel driveway, I could see my mother peeking through the sheer curtain. Something I remembered doing every time my dad came home from a hard day’s work as a mechanic at Mac Truck. The red brick ranch hadn’t changed over the years, other th
