What are you doing down here? Amy called awhile ago and I told her you were on the way to her house. What's the matter?
What's it all about, Dad? Who's Mr. Grey or is he Mr. Thompson? Who's that woman- Martha's her name -that Mom calls every week? What's going on, Dad?
*sigh* How much do you know, Adam?
I'm not sure, Dad. Not very much
Of course. I'm still not playing fair with you, asking that. You've suspected something for a while now, haven't you? I've seen you look at me, at us, your mother and me, studying us. And lately, you've been skulking around the house. Listening. Brooding. At first, we thought it was Amy, that you were mooning about her. I tried to convince myself of that because I've always dreaded the day when you'd ask certain questions. *sigh* And now the day is here...............
Are you going to tell me, Dad, what it's all about?
Of course, you have to know. It's your right to know. You're not a child any more. I've been telling myself that for a long time. But there never seemed to be a good time for it...