Chase Shustack

New York, Philly, Chicago, St.

Louis.

It was going on everywhere.

We all had to do it, see?

It was a kind of, you know what it's like when everyone has to give a little bit?

Like when your grandfather grew up during the Second World War and everyone had to make a little sacrifice just to get by.

He tapped his fingers on the armrest, and a very faint, sad smile appeared on his face.

For a second, in the glint of the living room light, his eyes seemed to be welling up.

God, it couldn't have been anyone else but Joey.

I don't know why they made him do it.

Part of the, uh, ritual, if you could call it that.

It's a very important thing we had to do.

My father said it in such a way that it sounded childish, like a little boy who didn't fully grasp it himself.

Everyone understood it at the time.

Me, your mother, your uncle, your grandmother, all of us.

Even if we didn't want to do it, someone still had to do it.

Do what?

Dad, you keep saying that, but you're not making any sense.

My father took another labored breath.

He closed his eyes and wet his lips.