“What is that you’re playing?” He’d adopted the contemptuous tone he used when he wanted to lecture about something: tidying my room; eating unhealthily; drinking too much; swearing. The list goes on.
“It’s called Heavy Metal.”
“Please…can you turn it down?”
The big ending arrived and I threw my head forward in time to the closing boom. During the brief silence between tracks, his eyes scolded me for my disobedience. Drums and a heavy riff launched the next song and I grinned, taunting him with my air guitar.
“Come on, Dad, I’m trying to get my homework done,” he said.