It still had only been about two years since my mother died, and the idea of abandoning my father, even at his request, didn’t leave me feeling good, but Dad insisted I go.
“I really think you’re brother has gone a little crazy down there, and he’s not listening to me,” my father said. “I’m hoping that you can talk some sense into him.”
The whole idea seemed crazy. Sam was in law school. I was home with a recently earned English degree, no job, no prospects, and the expectation from my father, who thinks I am talented, that I should be seriously working on my first novel. I had not written a word.
How was I supposed to tell Sam how to live his life? Sam was the one always telling me to pull my head out of my ass, and I hate to admit it, but Sam was always right. He gave great advice. I
