« It’s been such a long time! Thank you so much for letting us stay in your cottage for the week! Remember my husband?.. And my kids?It’s a pleasure, Samantha!... Your… family…? Uh… Of course, I remember them… », he answered, with some uncertainty in his voice.You don’t remember them, do you?I’m sorry, Samantha, but it’s been forever and… mind refreshing my old memory?My mother looked a bit embarrassed, but proceeded to re-introduce us to her old uncle:First, she introduced my father.My dad, Carl, was 46 and well in shape. He had no hair at all on the head, apart from a thick salt-and-pepper mustache. He almost always wore that same gray t-shirt and indigo-blue jeans. Carl had a tattoo of a pin-up girl on his right forearm and one of a cross on his left forearm. Though he was a really calm and funny man, Carl looked dangerous and, honestly, the fact that he was a biker didn’t help at all.Then, there was my older sister, Cassandra. Cassandra, or Cassie as we all call her, was a 22. His name was Robb Pointe. Well, actually Robert, then Rob. Then, afterhe got with Melanie, it was Robb. She said it sounded cooler. Hissister disagreed. His mother downright hated it. But he'd had arebellious streak instilled deep in him since his father; Jeff had diedof a particularly aggressive cancer just shy of Robb's 11th birthday.Before that, Robb's life belonged to what seemed a typical family.Saturday afternoon movies with his dad, watching Buckaroo Banzai drivethrough the mountain. His dad, passing him a root beer while he drankhis Michelob. Sylvia, his mother laughing at something that happened inone of his stories, baking cookies, or watched him playing withKimster. Riding their bikes together, Robb's lack of friends kind offorced a bond between the two. There was an unspoken trust thatexisted. They wrestled together, with her never getting out of thedreaded 'spider' hold. She was always a little tomboyish. She wouldpretend her Barbies were soldiers just so he would play.
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