Two Under Par by Kevin Henkes

didn’t really feel any safer now that Sally was home. He wasn’t really any happier, either. His sense of relief hadn’t been momentous or long-lasting. She had been gone; he had survived. It hadn’t been easy, but he had done it. And something told him that it wouldn’t be so hard next time.
    While the rain fell Wedge did a lot of observing. Watching his family and making mental lists of all the things they did. Wedge wasn’t completely certain what “normal” was. But he was sure that this wasn’t it.
    Most confusing to Wedge was Sally, which seemed odd since she was his mother. But she was changing somehow before his very eyes. Acting skittish. Or was it that he could see things differently? That she hadn’t changed at all, and he had? It appeared to Wedge that Sally might cry any minute, as she had the night she came home. And all her joking and whooping seemed no more than a disguise. Wedge had felt uncomfortable when Sally had revealed so much to him in her person-to-person talk; it had stirred up things deep and silent. For the first time in his life he felt sorry for Sally. Up until then all of his pity was spent on himself.
    â€œAre you okay?” Wedge asked Sally continuously.
    â€œ Okay? Wedge, I’ve never felt better!” she’d always answer, smiling.
    On the first day of the bad weather, King tried giving Sally cooking lessons. They didn’t last long. Sally kept complaining that they were dirtying too many dishes. “Why don’t we just line all the pots and pans with foil, so we don’t have to wash them,” Sally suggested.
    â€œAre you serious?” King asked.
    Of course she was.
    â€œI give up,” King said, throwing his arms up in the air and laughing. Wedge couldn’t help laughing, either. The cooking lesson ended with King and Sally playing Frisbee in the kitchen with a lid from an oleo container.
    Sally called the weather number on the phone every fifteen minutes, then repeated the report to everyone in a nasal voice like the recording, even if the recording hadn’t changed for hours. She also paraded around the house singing “Stormy Weather.” It was a song that Wedge could only describe as screechy—at least Sally’s rendition. Sally said that she thought a famous lady named Lena Horne originated the song. She pointed out that the song was way before her time. “Just call me Lena,” she’d say before she began each time. “And Lena says we’re going to have a wonderful life together,” she’d add, holding her belly. King would frequently join in with Sally. King’s voice was much better than Sally’s, but she usually drowned him out. Then they did “Raindrops Keep Fallin’ on My Head,” King acting out the words like a game of charades as they belted away.
    If this was their attempt at creating a happy home life, Wedge didn’t think he was up for it.
    And then there was Andrew. “We’re having a baby! We’re having a baby!” he squealed frequently. He lugged a box of tissues with him wherever he went. When the thunder and lightning hit, he jumped and yelped like a frightened puppy. And he spent a great portion of the day in front of the TV. He didn’t just watch TV, he participated in it. And not cartoons and game shows, only public television shows.
    It was most pathetic, in Wedge’s opinion, when Andrew watched “Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood.” Like a little clone, Andrew would change from his dress shoes into his tennis shoes, and he’d even put on his cardigan sweater right along with Mr. Rogers. He’d also sing with him and snap his fingers just like Mr. Rogers did.
    Mr. Rogers had always given Wedge the creeps when he was little and Sally had made him watch. Wedge also thought that Mr. Rogers snapped his fingers as if he were brain damaged. And then to see Andrew doing it the same way made Wedge