"Paulie, where are you going?"
Going over here. Here. Fuzzy. Moving thing.
"What are you doing?"
Touch it.
"Is it ok if he touches it? Mom, is that ok?"
Gene is watchful. This little boy changed everything. We were three - two parents, one child. He was our whole world, and vice versa. He had our undivided attention, you can see it in his face in pictures. And you can see something else there now. Now we are four. It’s a confusion that masks a sadness that he doesn’t understand. He doesn’t know what he’s missing, only that he’s missing something.
And he doesn’t even see the implicit message that his future lies with this baby, not with us. The boys will outlive us, and then they’ll have each other.
Yeah, that’s ok, Gene. Just don’t let him eat it.
"Alright, mom." A slow voice, condescending, that apes his parents, "Now, Paulie, don’t eat that. Mama said so, and I said so."
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