The Long Road Home. Lynn Patrick

      “You type on a little keyboard,” explained Priscilla, “on a phone.”

      Dad merely grunted but Mom told Mia, “Gramps just likes to get some rest in his recliner before he comes to bed. You know, in front of the TV, with his eyes closed. Last night he did about six hours of ‘resting’ before he came to bed.”

      “I wasn’t asleep,” Dad objected. “I was watching a program.”

      “Watching what program?” Mom asked.

      “Uh, well...something about history.”

      Mom snorted. “Looked like an old basketball game to me, on the classic sports channel. You’d have remembered if you hadn’t been resting so hard.” She gestured toward the grill. “Let’s get those burgers on.”

      “Okay, okay.”

      Shutting out the bickering, which tended to get on her nerves, Priscilla stared around her at the pretty flowerbeds. Mom was some gardener. Too bad the big patio didn’t look as neat and pretty. Grass and weeds poked out between the irregular stones. One of the legs on the table loaded with platters of uncooked burgers and corn on the cob was held together with duct tape. And the chairs around it could use a new coat of paint. The patio was one of those projects Dad wasn’t doing that Mom kept complaining about.

      “Aren’t those coals ready yet?”

      “I don’t know, Helen.” Dad sounded down, like he didn’t really care. He looked as if he didn’t care about much. Sweat trickled down his balding head into his face, but he didn’t even bother to wipe it off. His shirttail hung out of his pants and the button holding it together at his waist looked ready to pop. “Fifteen, maybe twenty minutes.”

      Mom made a sound of frustration and spun on her heel. “I’ll be inside.”

      Priscilla followed her. “I’ll come with you.”

      First she glanced over at the girls to see if they would come after her. Mia was standing by the grill next to Dad, her arm around his thick waist. His expression brightened a bit, and he gave her a one-armed hug. A tuned-out Alyssa was sprawled out in one of the lounge chairs, texting, as usual.

      Sighing, Priscilla entered the kitchen where her mother was digging in the refrigerator. “Let me help you, Mom.”

      She took a giant container of potato salad from her mother and then searched for a place to set it down. Every flat surface in the cramped, outdated kitchen seemed to be filled with something. Wow, this was worse than usual. Priscilla swept a bunch of Dad’s sports magazines to one side on the kitchen table and put the bowl down. Mom set a container of coleslaw next to it.

      “Bad enough your father couldn’t get to fixing up the patio before the girls came from New York.”

      “Right.”

      “But not even lighting the coals today?” Mom shook her head, then punched her glasses back up her nose. “He’s not paying attention.”

      “Right.”

      Mom’s voice went up a notch. “He’s been like this ever since he retired from the Post Office.”

      “Right.”

      “If you ask me, he needs to see a counselor.”

      “Right...” Priscilla started. “Uh, do you think he would?”

      Her mother sighed and shook her head. “I don’t know. He doesn’t listen to me anymore. Maybe if you talked to him about it.”

      The last thing Priscilla wanted to do was get in the middle of this ongoing battle between her parents. Their lifelong bickering had always bothered her, and the only way she could deal with it was to stay out of their fights. But this sounded more serious than usual, and if Dad needed her help...

      “Doesn’t Dad have any interests anymore?”

      “Just watching television with that remote going, changing channels till he falls asleep.”

      Which reminded her of Alyssa texting and Mia playing games on their phones. “Maybe the girls inherited gadget fever from their grandfather.”

      Mom looked confused. “Gadget fever?”

      “They both like to work with their phones. Play games, text.”

      “Oh, right. I noticed.”

      “But, if you ask me, Alyssa is carrying it too far.” Priscilla felt she had to confide in someone. “Do you know she won’t even turn her phone off when she goes to sleep? She keeps it under her pillow and replies to text messages from her friends all night. If anyone is lacking sleep, it’s her.”

      “My, my.” Mom shook her head. “Kids these days.”

      “I had to put a cot in the office for Mia. She says the vibrations from her sister’s phone bothers her.” Priscilla admitted, “It’s been a mess. I don’t know whether to discipline her or go easy...”

      Mom interrupted, “Oh, I wouldn’t be disciplining her, dear. At least not for something that isn’t so serious. They’re not in school.”

      “But it can’t be good for a girl to be up all night with her phone on. I’ve almost been tempted to call Paul.”

      “Overseas?” Mom looked concerned. “Now I wouldn’t do that, Prissy.”

      “I know. I don’t want to bother him.”

      “And my grandkids may never come see me if things get too unpleasant for them.”

      Priscilla sighed. “I know that, too. I just don’t want to be an...irresponsible aunt.”

      Mom came closer and gave her a hug. “You’re not irresponsible. Don’t even think that. Kids are technology-crazy nowadays. In fact, we all have too much technology for our own good.”

      “We sure do,” Priscilla agreed, hugging her mother back. “Too bad we can’t get updated along with our computers.” She had to ask one more question, “Do you think it’s normal for Alyssa and Mia to fight so much?”

      Mom laughed. “Oh, honey, I thought you and Paul were going to start World War III when he was in high school.”

      “That was because he was so many years older than me.” In comparison to Alyssa and Mia, who were closer in age. “He thought you were a little pest. One time he locked you in a closet.”

      Priscilla nodded grimly. “I remember that.”

      “However, I don’t think he would have done that if you hadn’t thrown his sneakers out the window or spied on him and his friends.”

      Priscilla didn’t remember that. She objected, “I was a good little girl!”

      “Well, you were never aggressive in an openly hostile way.”

      Her mother certainly had a different view of things. “I wasn’t aggressive at all!”

      Mom laughed. “Sweetheart, all kids are naughty at one time or another. You’re only human. Kids will be kids. They outgrow their stages.”

      “I’ll have to keep that in mind.” And she knew no one was perfect, including herself. She’d just forgotten about the sneakers, she guessed. As they put condiments out on a tray to take outside, Priscilla decided to bring the conversation back to her father. “Maybe Dad will outgrow his behavior, too.” Though she intended to keep an eye on him. “Maybe he has something like post-traumatic retirement syndrome.”

      Mom smiled. “Well, we can hope so anyway.”

      “Say, what about Dad’s bowling? He used to go every week.”

      “He’s not doing it anymore. Some younger guy insisted on keeping score, which your dad used to do. Roger says he’s not useful anymore there, either, so he quit the league. Of course he could