He could never remember how he made it home; the drive, his tears were a complete blur. He ignored the constantly ringing phone, the tearful messages that accumulated on his machine. They slowed and eventually stopped. Christmas cards still arrived each year to be dumped in the trash, unopened and unacknowledged.He returned to the present with a start and opened the door. No bell, no knock, simply entering the home after his self imposed exile. Quietly, the old words came unbidden to his lips. "Mom, Dad. I'm home."The low hum of machinery came from the dining room this time. He retraced his path of that fateful day seven years before to find the dining room transformed into a sickroom. His father lay on the hospital bed, looking incredibly, impossibly frail. His mother stood by the bed and old Father John was murmuring low and... it could only be the Last Rites.He slowly approached his mother and placed a hand upon her shoulder. She engulfed him in a tearful hug as the priest finished. He always just assumed that he had a persuasive personality. He was soon to find that it was much more than that. Scott had had a steady girlfriend, Susan, for a long time. He was more or less faithful to her, as faithful as anyone can be in college. Every once in a while, another girl would blow him, but what Susan didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her. She was more than happy with the relationship. Scott excused himself by saying that it would break her heart if she found out. So he never told her. One night, both Scott and Susan went to the same party, but separately. Susan was feeling sick in the morning, so hadn’t planned to go, but she felt better by the time the party started, so she went anyway. She knew Scott was there. She didn’t mind if he went on his own. She wasn’t a very restrictive girlfriend. Once she arrived, she started looking for Scott. ‘Won’t he be surprised,’ she thought. In truth, she was the one in for a surprise. Susan looked everywhere for Scott. For a moment,.
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