Unknown by Christopher Smith Page B

little bastards,” he said.  
    My mother came around the table and asked us to take our seats.   I couldn’t remember the last time the three of us sat down together for a meal.   It was foreign to me.   Weird.
    “You’re bulking up,” Dad said.  
    “Not as fast as I’d like.   It’s hard for me to put on muscle.”
    “You should try out for football this year.   They could use someone like you.   You’re fast.   You should give it a shot.”
    If only he knew why I hadn’t before.   But with Alex trying out for the team, at least I’d have an ally if I went for it.   And if I played well, maybe people would see me in a different light and back off.  
    “I can try,” I said.
    He shrugged.
    My mother put a plate filled with spaghetti and meatballs down in front of me, then she offered one to my father.   She got her own, turned to the counter behind her and picked up a basket of French bread.   When she finished, she asked us what we wanted to drink.
    “Water for me,” I said.
    “Beer,” my father said.
    The spaghetti was good.   So was the bread.   I raised my water glass and gave a toast to my mother for getting her old job back.   Then my mother raised her glass and toasted me on my eighteenth birthday.   I couldn’t leave my father out, so I raised my glass and made another toast.   This one was a risk, but I went for it anyway.   “If you’re up for it, here’s to kicking your ass on ‘Killzone 3’.”
    He actually laughed and at that moment, I realized just how hard not having jobs had been on each of them.   The atmosphere hadn’t changed completely in the wake of my mother getting a job, but it was better.   The tension wasn’t as thick.   When my father found a job, maybe he’d lay off the booze.
    “You’re going to kick my ass?” he said, finishing his beer and nodding at my mother to get him another.   “I wouldn’t count on it.   I’ve got moves you don’t know about, boy.”
    “Game on,” I said.
    “Game on,” he agreed.
     
     
    *    *    *
     
     
    It was one of the best nights the three of us had together in over a year. I was good at the game, but my father was really good, which surprised me and made the challenge tougher than I expected as we tried to blow each other away while aliens attacked.
    When I went to bed, I thanked them for a great birthday and slept better than I had in a long time.   What began as a difficult day ended on a high note, something I never saw coming.   Having my parents back, at least in some capacity—even if it was a fragile and fleeting capacity—meant a lot to me.   I didn’t know how long I’d have them back, but I’d take what I could and pray for more.   If the family broke again, at least I knew now that there was the possibility of finding a way back.   A year ago, I never would have believed that.   A year ago, I would have laughed at the idea.
    Not now.
    I turned onto my side, the amulet shifted and with its movement, a thought occurred to me.   Maybe I could help my father find a job.   All he needed was a break, which I could make happen.   And if he got that break, perhaps he’d go back to the way he was—a man who had his share of issues, sure, but only a few which revealed themselves when he was working and contributing to the family.   When he was happy and productive, he was another person.   I missed that person.   I wanted him back.
    It was tempting, but was it wrong?   My mother found a job on her own.   There was no interference by me—and that meant something because I knew she’d done it herself.  
    I looked out my bedroom window at the street lamp glowing across the way.   A haze of moths and other flying insects were drawn to its halo of light and colliding dumbly with its source.   They spun and whirled, dipped and lifted, disappeared and reappeared.   They were a roiling ball of confusion, seemingly immune to the instinct that made them smash against the light.