Continuation of a murder, planned.

Roland hugged his wife a bit longer then he realized he ever had.

"Heh then Mr. BigBear!" she said, unreturning the hug in the kitchen. She had on her kitchen mits from checking the meatloaf and did not feel that it was appropriate. So instead, she smiled at the attention her husband showed and responded, "must have been a rough Bible study."

"Huh? No, no, no, it was fine, the usual Thursday night fights. But I luckily had someone to come home to. The biddies are probably still there plotting something involving a verse or two."

"Did you let them know we can't do the bake sale this weekend?"

"No, sweetie, totally spaced it, totally. I can call Marcie right now," he started to pick the phone on his hip. In one swoop, Alanna had rotated and used the motion to toss her oven mitt in the direction of the sink. She approached the sliding back door and hollerated through a opening of no less then 5 inches.

"DINNER! BRY! DECLAN! NOW!" Only her emphasis made it sound more like 'knee-ow.' It was her personal trademark with the boys.

Roland did not have enough time to put his finger into his ear so elected to call Marcie's house after dinner.

"You."

"Wha?" Roland knew what she was going to say, and started to the sink. It was the game that all couples play--giving one the sensation that they were still in control of something in their lives.

"Wash up and get to the table."

He wanted not to, just to see if she could handle it without yelling.

But tonight was not the night.

The boys circled the table twice before sitting down, touching each rung of the high backed dining room chairs. Roland was surprised that they had any such civil disobidence when they ate in this room. He had an immaculate way of following up this bad behavior.

"BOYS." He stated it and then just imagined the rest of the command. He did not make eye contact.

They sat in their required seats.

"Are you going to say grace, honey?"

Both boys looked to their shoes as the light steam of the fresh meatloaf and green beans floated between them and their parents in a wall of white.

"Thank You, Lord for blessing us with this food. We thank You for always providing for our needs. Thank you for mom who prepared this meal for us. We ask that You would bless this food to our bodies. Thank You, Father, for each person who shares this meal with us today. We ask in Jesus’ name, amen, " he paused and looked through his eyebrows.

"Amen" the boys stated without making eye contact.

The meal was like every other. Talk circled around the usual safe topics. Work was heck, Alanna continued from the previous dinner, and no one respected to her. She supposed it was that they were all Jewish and just did not under her. The boys followed up with the usual admission that there was no homework and school was fine. Further prodding eluded little else.

"What were you guys doing outside just now?"

Both boys looked at each other.

"Playing with Nicholas over at the street corner. Water's backed up."

"Probably shouldn't do that, it could be dirty," Roland was proud he had a moment to do the 'dad-thing' every once and awhile.

"And Nicholas," Declan looked right at hsi father. "He said that guy up the street was a faggot. A total faggot, Dad. And isn't that a bad word?"

"We will NOT have that word spoken at the table, young man!" Alanna did not look at her son. The words came out as if rehearsed. It was as if she was supposed to say that-but did not totally understand why.

"I agree with your mother. Faggot is not acceptable. Which man?" Roland knew.

to be continued (my hand kinda hurts...)