I feel uncomfortable. Ned is away from home too much. What happens when he’s not around turns into a meager family comedy, a humorous short film shown to a deserted house across the city. I continued to stroke his back. “But this one seems intimidating in a more adult way,” I said. “Adam and the others are all children. As for this boy, I feel that he can steal, he can do everything. And it makes me think. Jonathan is changing, he’ll be interested in girls and cars and heaven knows.” “Certainly so, old lady,” Ned said, and relaxed beneath the blanket. I know how he envisioned it: a teen comedy, harmless entertainment, with loads of first dates and hippie friends. Perhaps he was right. But he himself couldn’t treat it like a movie. I can’t tell you how different it makes you feel when you have to deal with it for hours. I knew if I tried to speak out, I would be like the mother character in that movie: a very rigid, talkative character, someone who couldn’t joke.
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