By Jeffrey A. Paolano
Ron flouts the rules, plays fast and loose at the ragged edge. When those who know advise him to keep his son in the car seat, he ignores their entreaty.
“Why not put ‘em in a seat, keep ‘em safe?” Pawpaw Phil inquires of his reckless son.
“The kid’s too big. It’s alright. He’s good.”
When Ron’s car hits the truck, Pawpaw flings an arm across the boy. The arm rips from the socket before splintering.
“Christ, Dad, I’m so sorry. That truck came from nowhere. Jesus, I’m so sorry,” beseeches a contrite Ron.
His quailing son nauseates the macho Pawpaw.
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