Chapter 43
We meet Randy’s father in the glass-enclosed sunroom. It reminds me of an aquarium without water. The floor is covered with wall-to-wall gray carpeting. There’s a conversation pit with a worn brown Naugahyde sofa. A blue-and-white afghan is draped over one arm. Two matching chairs flank the sofa. Metal folding chairs and small tables fill the room. I count one plant, a potted ficus in the corner. A man gets up from the sofa and greets Randy. I expected a bedridden old coot. Boy, am I ever wrong.
He opens his arms to his son. “Randy, good to see you.”
“Hey, Dad.” Randy wraps his arms around his father. I’ve never before seen two men embrace.
I suppose I’ve seen too many From Drugs to Mugs movies at school. Randy’s father is nothing like that. He is tall and slender with brown
