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shoulders. “You’re a good son.”
    “Thank you for understanding. She never liked you,” he said sheepishly, “but thank you for being so patient with all this.”
    “Come on,” she said, “whether she likes me or not, she’s still family.”

 
    Chapter 4
     
     
    “It’s a balmy night on the Smuggler’s Bay boardwalk, and it’s crowded with walkers taking relief from the sunset. The sun is down and the night is on as the temperature is at a cool eighty-five degrees.”
    Johnny Wong called a young family over to his booth in the middle of the boardwalk. The husband and wife looked at each other tentatively and decided to approach with their little one.
    “I have with me another young family. Little boy, what’s your name?”
    The boy’s father reached down and picked his son up, placing him on the countertop. Johnny swung the microphone over to the boy.
    “Tyrell.”
    “Hello, Tyrell. My name’s Johnny. How old are you?”
    “Five.”
    “Where are you—”
    “I’ll be six in March.”
    “Oh, really? How nice.”
    “I’m forty-five inches long, and I weigh forty-five pounds.”
    “You don’t say. Where are you from, little man?”
    “I live here.”
    “Right here in Smuggler’s Bay?”
    “Yes.”
    “Are Mom and Dad letting you stay up late tonight?”
    Tara glared at the DJ, and then she smiled.
    “A little later than usual,” said Marcus.
    “Really?” asked Tyrell. “Yay!”
    “What’s the special occasion?” asked Johnny.
    “My Mommy got a job today.”
    Tara blushed. “All right, Tyrell. Let’s go play some games.”
    Tyrell looked at his father for confirmation. Marcus winked. Tyrell jumped down from sitting on the countertop.
    “You guys have a great night,” said Johnny waving goodbye to the trio. “This next song is dedicated to my new buddy, Tyrell, Youth Gone Wild by Skid Row.”
    “Oh, jeez,” said Tara. “This place is so stuck in the eighties.”
    “So what’s wrong with that?” asked Marcus.
    “What year is this?” asked Tara sarcastically.
    “I like eighties music,” declared Tyrell.
    “What do you know about eighties music?”
    “Daddy and I watch it on VH1 Plastic.”
    “You mean VH1 Classic,” corrected Marcus.
    “Yeah, that’s what I said.”
    Tara raised an eyebrow at Marcus. “So this is what you two have been doing when I’m not around?”
    Tyrell tugged on Tara’s tee-shirt. “Mommy, Mommy, I want to play games.”
    “You did promise him,” said Marcus.
    “Okay,” said Tara. “What games do you want to play?”
    “I wanna play that pop the balloon game over there!”
    “That game’s a scam,” said Tara. “There are no large or medium prizes. Everything’s a small. You have to spend forty dollars to win a prize I could get you in a toy store for five or ten dollars.”
    “What a buzzkill, honey,” said Marcus. “Hey, Ty, how about we play some racing games in the arcade?”
    “I can get into that,” said Tara. “In fact, I think I can beat you and Daddy.”
    Tyrell squealed in delight and looked at his father for his reaction.
    “C’mon, little man. I work the pedals and you steer.”
    “Yeah!” Tyrell grabbed his mother’s and father’s hands and led them into the arcade.
    Race after race, Tara smiled as she looked over at her husband and son, her family. Marcus was right. Jobs come and go, as do the trials and tribulations of life, but they’d always had each other.
    There was a time when she didn’t appreciate them like she should’ve…
    But she appreciated them now.
    After a few games, they went for some ice cream cones and sat on one of the wooden benches facing the beach. They watched the waves crash in the darkness, the sounds of the games and crowd behind them, as they licked their cones.
    Marcus looked over his son’s head and smiled at Tara. It was a warm, loving smile, but there was something in addition…something different. There was an anxiety lying at the surface beneath the smile, a