Bill & The Kid

Looking rather desperate, Liam eyed her. "What do you mean?"

"Oh!" she squealed with a look around the table. "Don't you just love it?"

"What?" Liam asked.

"Your accent! Sounds very high end. Are you high end? I mean noble and all that."

Then, as if being tickled, Liam sputtered a giggle. "Me? Not a chance. I'm just a regular bloke."

"He's a bloke!" Tisha cried. "How cool is that?"

"Pretty cool," Joey said. "So, say something else."

Looking intrigued, Liam raised his eyebrows. "Like what?"

"I don't know." Looking out the window for inspiration, Joey nodded. "Okay. What do you call a truck?"

Liam shrugged. "A lorry."

"A lorry!" Tisha gushed. "So cute!"

Pushing back his long black braids, Anthony leaned in. "Ever seen the queen?"

Liam's eyes went large. "Uh, she's dead?"

"I know that." Anthony sounded frustrated. He often did. "I mean before."

"Well, I saw her on the telly."

"The telly!" Tisha cried and they all roared with laughter.

His frustration melting, even Anthony joined in. Now peppering Liam with questions, they made it impossible for him to stay quiet and soon their conversation was even louder than the decor. Liam, Bill noticed, was engaged. Seeing that the boy was enjoying himself, he sat back and laughed along with them but he didn't say a thing. The scene was magic and all he wanted to do was watch. The meeting couldn't have gone better than if he'd planned it himself which, of course he had. But never with hopes this high.

Gazing at these kids he knew so well, he saw that he'd done something good with his life. He'd taught them for years, with everything that teaching entailed. He knew their lives, their problems, and how far they'd come. He knew their parents, too, at least the ones who stayed. Each was a survivor — Anthony from bad case of no self-esteem, Tisha from an acrimonious divorce, and Joey from physical abuse. Yet, here they were graciously entertaining a stranger at a former teacher's request.

Former. At times like this, Bill missed teaching. But the longer he’d taught the more responsibility he'd accumulated until he was seeing more screens than students and attending more board meetings than meetings with the parents. Retiring had been the right choice. He knew that. The years had begun to show. Physically and mentally, he'd been worn down. Academics. Social work. Psychiatry. Self-defense. High school teaching was no ordinary job.

Now he tutored from time to time. That was how he'd come to know them so well. Each had fallen back and he'd helped them catch up. Now, letting the laughter flow over him like an exuberant symphony playing not far away, he began to relax when, all of a sudden, one of the instruments went off-key. Leaning in, he looked around the table.

"Bowling?" he croaked. "Did someone say bowling?"