I remember him arguing with grandpa one night. I don’t think they knew I was listening. ‘What about your fucking kid?’ I heard grandpa say. ‘... don’t want anything to do with him,’ said dad. ‘He killed my Martha. I’m just getting the hell away from this farm and that boy. I don’t ever want to see him again.’ I remember crying. How was I responsible for the death of my mom? I never even got to know her. I had often wondered what she was like and if she would have liked me. I think I sat there. And how it felt the last time he had done something similar. He had loved Lisa, more than any woman until she entered his life. There were similarities between the two, the hair color, stature. They both made me feel whole, like a man. The way Lisa cocked her head and grinned at him. The feeling of those fjord blue eyes sparkling into his. Things had gone badly and Lisa ended the relationship. An ache like he had never felt permeated his very existence. Looking into mirror as he shaved,. More

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