Those Worse Off Than You

Ace and I walked into the kitchen and sat down across from each other as my mother laid out plates and utensils before sitting down herself. Everyone started dishing out their food and I thought everything was going well as the first half of supper went by silently.

That was- until my father started up again.

"You into sports much, Ace?"

He looked up, shocked that someone was talking to him as he began to stutter, "Uh... yea, I mean... no. No; not really. I used to play soccer, but that was before- before middle school."

"What kind of boy are you?"

"The artistic type," Ace said, not bothered at all by my father's last comment.

"Yea dad," I interrupted. "You should see his work, he's really good."

"Really?"

Ace nodded and turned slightly pink before looking down at his plate.

"Now son, there's nothing to be embarrassed about. Be a man! You need to stand up proud."

Ace only nodded.

I began to wonder if it had been how he was raised that made Ace so timid. And then I began to wonder- how had Ace been raised? Was he well disciplined as a child? Was his mother kind a gentle? From what I hear- she was a remarkable woman... someone most people would look up to.

The supper table became quiet and awkward after that and it wasn't until after everyone was finished that Ace volunteered us to do the dishes for me mother. She smiled and nodded and I sighed. But I got up and did them anyway.

Afterwards, I lead Ace back to my room and plopped on my bed with a thud. He pushed a few plushies out of the way and sat down next to me.

"What do you want to do," he asked in a high squeaky voice, talking through a small stuffed bear.

"Whatever you want to do."

"Well... you want to go for a walk? Or... are you not allowed."

"No- we can go."

He smiled and threw the bear back in a pile before he stood up and put on his sweater.