If Michael or his brother complained, their father called them selfish.
“He’d say we should be grateful he bothered taking us,” Michael said. “After a while, we stopped asking him to go.”
“Did your mother ever stop him?”
“She’d tell us to let him have a few pieces. Dad always took more than a few.”
Michael looked toward the stairs.
“Did the boys try to stop him?”
I repeated what Ethan and Owen had told me.
Michael stood up.
“I’m going to my parents’ house.”
“Now?”
“Yes.”
“What are you going to say?”
He picked up his jacket.
“My dad got away with that when we were little because we couldn’t stand up to him. But these are my kids. I’m not letting him do the same thing to them.”
He reached for his keys, then paused.
“Actually, there’s something I want to take with me.”
“What?”
“One of the candy buckets.”
