The Knite's didn't mind Harry's presence at all. He was like spice added to a dull dish of food, just his presence adding variety to the family table. Usually, most of the Knite family had come to the table with a sort of emptiness. Sean would stare at the unoccupied chair where his father would normally sit. Emily would just stare blankly at her meal as she would devour it, spoonful by spoonful, and then jostle out of her chair and back to her room. Their mother would just look at both of them. Feeling for them. Wishing a thousand things, only realizing none of them would ever come true. But with Harry taking up father's seat, the room felt different. The atmosphere brightened, it glimmered. It shined. Tonight's dinner was different, a complete change of the languid pace that had been the last two weeks of agony for the surviving members of Sean's dad.

     And it was refreshing. It was the first night since the news of the crash that Emily had laughed at the dinner table.

     Harry was good with kids, as well as parents. Sean soon found out that night. Harry juggled jokes with Emily, while still maintaining a well mannered conversation with Mary, while still sliding in a few words with Sean. The bulk of Harry's vocabulary mainly consisted of "Man", "Bro", and "I'm not kidding". Every word, every syllable he uttered, Harry filled with enthusiasm and genuine interest. But he wasn't all talk and no ears. Once given the opportunity he was a great listener, while still maintaining the flow of conversation. Connecting slow small talk to upbeat and buoyant discussion at the table with ease, with seemingly never a dull or lost moment. Harry had the affable nature of an old uncle and the knife-edge wit of a car salesman.

     He told side bursting anecdotes, and embarrassing routines. He spoke of hilarious events, some first hand, most of them second hand. His transparency knew no bounds, as he twirled pasta and licked red sauce from his lips. Before Sean knew it, his mother was swapping stories with Harry in where Sean had somehow become the subject of conversation. All of them embarrassing. But Sean didn't mind. Seeing the glow of life and meaning and happiness in the faces of his mother and sister made Sean's heart almost burst with pride. Sure, it was weird that a relative they've never heard of was sitting in their dining room. Both his mother and sister were laughing. They felt safe, Sean knew they felt safe. With Harry. Sean could see it in the wrinkles of his mother's eyes. He could hear it in the tremulous giggle that bubbled up from Emily's throat when Harry snorted on a noodle. The atmosphere of sheer joy was intoxicating. Sean couldn't help himself from laughing. At least there was another guy present at the dining table besides him. And Sean didn't have to try to get his sister to smile at all. Harry was the regular entertainer that night, spinning stories and showing charisma that Sean could never manage to do. Emily was busting out all of her ribs, letting out a snorting laugh at one of Harry's jokes.

     "Watch out, Em. You're going to spit right in the food." Mary said to her giggling daughter as she passed her glance from Emily to Sean. "Oh, Sean?"

     "Yeah?" Sean responded with a mouthful of pasta.

     "The car's having trouble again; you know, it's not starting up. Maybe you can check on it when we clean up?" Mary gave her son a sad smile, and that was all Sean needed to hear.

     When Harry left, it was like having to separate the cream from the two halves of an Oreo. Even though Sean knew Emily and maybe even his mother Mary enjoyed Harry's refreshing presence at the dinner table, he knew that his family's happiness would disappear faster than Harry jogging home in the summer night.

     Sean was just grateful for something to do than wash dishes and wipe down cups. It wasn't that Sean disliked helping clean up. It was just that he felt more closer to his dad whenever he had worked with him in the garage on the family car. Sean was surprised when their dad had bought the old junker; it was practically dead when Sean senior had brought his son to buy it. But Sean's dad revived the old jalopy, gave it an entirely new engine, new look, and new transmission. His father got a kick out of restoring old and somewhat obsolete objects back to their former glory. A kind of nostalgia restorer, Sean's dad had called himself.

     Pretty soon after Sean's father had made the purchase, he and Sean had laid into the junker. At first there seemed very little hope for the sad machine. But after replacing some parts in the engine, restoring the muffler, and fixing everything else that was superficial, it eventually looked and ran just like it had come straight out of the factory. But not without Sean Junior's help, that is. Both father and son worked at least every weekend repairing and tearing at the old car, and through many attempts--most of them failing--the Knite's had a totally refurbished 1963 Ford station wagon. It had taken both father and son two whole years to fix, start to finish. At the time, Sean still thought it was a really stupid and old looking car, but after two entire summers of working on it with his dad, he learned to appreciate the car better. Although he did mention once in awhile to his dad that they should've bought a prius instead.

     Now that Sean stood in front of the station wagon, seeing its fading cream color and dented front fender, he wished that his dad were here. He inwardly wished that his dad were here to give advice on how to straighten out the bumper, or fix the smashed taillight. Even though Sean already knew how to do these things, deep down he just wanted to hear the sound of his dad's voice. He missed his dad telling him that he wasn't holding the wrench properly. He wanted to hear his ground rumbling laugh whenever Sean would tell a funny story that had happened at school. He wanted his dad to come in through the garage door and tell him that if he could figure out how to straighten out the bumper he would buy tickets to the next movie that was coming out.

     But Sean knew there was no chance of that happening.

     He put the ratchet set down next to the bucket filled with various car implements, wrenches, and other tools he had forgotten the names to. Sean stood there, staring at the car, wiping his mind from potentially tear jerking memories and decided to stay focused at the job at hand.

     "Why won't you work?" Sean said, hefting a large wrench in his hand as he approached the car steadily. He couldn't really do anything about the messed up bumper, and the tail light was something left to somebody who had the right tools. The real problem at hand was the car's ignition process. Or lack thereof.

     Sean didn't find out what was wrong with the car. He had checked in every nook and cranny without finding any anomaly whatsoever. He had checked the battery, the ignition switch, the brake line, even the fuel line. Nothing. Having given up on finding the problem, Sean had opened the garage door to let in the cold summer air to cool off his rising temper. He wiped off his greasy hands on his tank top shirt and leaned against the front of the car, putting his arms over his head.

     "Why won't you work, you-you stupid piece of junk!" Sean shouted, kicking the already bent fender with his foot. He cried out and stamped his foot to clear the pain coming from his toe. As he circled around in the garage, waiting for the agony in his toe to go away, Sean noticed something in the darkness. A small sliver of golden light shining in the evening blackness that covered the neighborhood. Only by the cover of darkness Sean was able to see the shaft of that minuscule light being covered by a hand, just before it was blotted from his sight.

     But he got a good look at who was snuffing out the light. The hand that had covered the source of the golden glow was attached to a blue hoodie. And the arm of the blue hoodie belonged to a small person, hiding behind a thick tree. Sean squinted. The blue hooded figure moved behind the tree.

     "Hello?" Sean whispered hoarsely, cleared his throat, and then squinted after the rushing black blob that vanished among the hedges and manicured lawns of the neighborhood. Then all of a sudden, the family car behind Sean flared to life. The vehicle's engine sputtered at first, and then purred like a cat. Sean turned around, staring at the car, then turned back to face the street. Sean didn't have time to the car as to why it suddenly came to life, or to why just started working. There was someone watching him

     "Hey!" Sean shouted at the dimly lit figure disappearing behind a wire box junction. He ran out into the street, somehow thinking that he could catch whoever had been watching him. Someone had been watching him.

     Spying on him.

     But why? He knew his neighborhood was filled with the regular strange old and cranky grandpas and the stereotypical hoodlums that would egg any house left unattended, but a stalker? Only someone really strange and messed up would even consider stalking someone, even someone so boring as Sean. And why him, anyway? Did this mysterious have something to do with the car starting up? Sean walked back to the open garage, the overhead fluorescent light hanging at the top of the garage roof cast a creepy white glow across the driveway and the street below.

     Shaking his head, Sean began packing away his dad's tools. He stared at the car, looking at the dash module. The car wasn't on and it didn't look like it was going to turn on again. He closed the station wagon's hood, his mind reeling. Sean walked backwards into the garage, making sure no stranger was on the streets looking at him. His eyes scanned the empty suburban landscape. Nobody. Just wind, a stray cat, and a fluttering plastic bag occupied the street. But just before he shut the garage door, Sean took one last look outside, just to make sure.

     ~~~

     "Really? Who was it?" Emily asked excitedly as she tried to rock in place on the kitchen chair. "Was it an alien?" Her voice sarcastic and sing-song. 

     "No, it wasn't." Sean replied, rolling his eyes to the ceiling just before he inserted his last spoonful of cereal in his mouth. "But whoever it was, she was definitely watching me."

     Mary, Sean, and Emily sat together around the dining table. The red sun in the sky hinted to another summer evening, and eventual night that would fall across the land.

     Sean blinked, holding his spoon a foot away from his face.

     "Okay, that sounded way creepier than it did in my mind."

     "She?" Mary said, looking up from the files of bills spread across the table.

     "A girl!" Emily squealed, leaning her head and blinked rapidly at Sean. "Was it your stalker girlfriend?"

     Sean gave his sister a deadpan glare. "I didn't even know you could pronounce that word."

     "I can pronounce a lot of words, believe it or not." Emily said in self satisfaction as she stabbed a piece of dry meatloaf with her fork. "How did you know it was a girl?"

     Sean put an elbow up on the table. "Because I'm pretty sure that I saw long hair coming out of the person's hoodie."

     "Or you just want to think your stalker is a girl. It could've been a guy with long hair." Emily teased, smiling back at her brother.

     Mary looked up from the pages of bills, frowning at Sean and interrupting Emily. "When did this happen, Sean?"

"When did what happen?" Sean asked slowly, sipping the milk from his bowl. Mary tilted her head forward, giving Sean her famous 'no-nonsense' look.

     "When did you see this... stalker?"

     Shrugging, Sean finished off the last of the milk in his bowl and set it down on the table with a CLUNK.

     "I don't know..." Sean pursed his lips, feeling an uneasy squelching in his gut. "Umm..." He mumbled, "Last week?"

     Mary sighed, "Well, why didn't you tell me sooner?"

     "Because, I thought it wasn't a big deal a week ago." Sean shrugged, standing up, empty bowl in hand.

     "Oh." Mary said. Sean could hear the sarcasm in her voice, although Emily was totally oblivious as she stabbed her remaining meatloaf the way a knight stabs at a defenseless dragon.

     "Well then, what changed your mind?" Mary challenged.

     "Uh, yeah." Sean began, dropping the bowl and leftover bits of mushed cereal down the drain. "I saw her again today. At school."

     "What?" Emily cried out blaringly, her fork skewering the meatloaf on her plate. "Wow. She really is into you."

     "Yeah, for other reasons." Mary said, picking up the pages cluttering the dining table. "Possibly more nefarious."

     "Nefarious?" Sean frowned. "Who says nefarious anymore?"

    "You get my drift." Sean's mother replied, standing up. She walked over to the counter and set down the file of pages. When she did, Sean could see her rubbing her hands. He had noticed that she had been doing that a lot lately.

     "Where was she? What did she do? Was she pretty?" Emily's questions came out of her mouth faster than air from a leaf blower. Sean shrugged again, flicking some crumbs off the table.

     "I saw her following me when I walked home this afternoon. Harry and Jeff were the first to notice that a girl was following us, but they didn't mind. But for me, I knew her from last week. I didn't know what to do, so I just kept on walking until it was just me and Harry."

    "And then what happened?" Emily asked, propping up her chin with her hand.

      "Well, she was still following me when Harry left me, which was what I expected." Sean continued, rubbing his temple. "Once I got to the house I waited behind the corner of the side, just out of sight. But after a few minutes, she didn't come around the corner, and when I came out of hiding and she wasn't there. She wasn't anywhere."

      Emily raised her eyebrows, sighing slowly through her lips.

    "Well, it's definite for sure." She began, her lips twitching into a smile. "Sean's having imaginary girlfriends."

    "I'm not crazy, Em. I saw her!" Sean leaned forward in his chair, drumming his fingers on the table. His eyes scanned the worn and scarred oak table, but they flicked up to see his mother exit the dining room. She was wringing her hands.

     "Okay, Emily." Sean coughed, standing up. He snatched up a nearby tissue box, just in case. "Make sure to clean up, alright? I'm gonna check on mom."

     Emily rolled her eyes at him, so Sean wasn't sure whether she had acknowledged his words or she was just mocking him. Either way, he knew that she would do the dishes before they all went to sleep. Em always did it to release the constant strain their mother was in these days. Actually, the house had gotten much cleaner over the last week since the funeral due to Emily's and Sean's efforts in maintaining the house while Mary was at work.

     Sean followed his obviously tense mother into the living room. It wasn't very big, but that was every room in the house. Sean saw Mary sitting down on the old leather couch that sat square in front of the classic box television set. Mary's shoulders were shaking, and the gut wrenching feeling came back to Sean.

     Moving around the couch and sitting down slowly next to his mother, Sean put a hand on her trembling shoulder. Mary didn't look up for a few seconds from her tear stained hands until Sean spoke up.

     "Mom?"

    Sean's mother sighed, then took in a shuddering breath as she wiped a tear from her eyes. When she saw the tissue box in her son's hands, she smiled at him gratefully and took the box from him.

     She didn't say anything, and Sean was grateful for that. He knew that if he heard his mom speak in her cracking voice while sobbing at the same time, Sean would no doubt cry with her. And they would need two boxes of tissues.

     "Is your hand acting up again?" Sean asked, rubbing his mom's shoulder consolingly. "What did the doctor say?"

     Mary chuckled and sobbed at the same time, a strange combination of sadness that he had never seen from his mother that made Sean wince in empathy.

     "It's both hands now." Mary whispered slowly, then winced when she folded a wet tissue in her hands. "The doctor diagnosed carpal tunnel, but he's not sure. She's still confused as to why the tips of my fingers burn."

    "Well, that's common..." Sean stated with uncertainty. "Isn't it?"

     Mary shrugged, giving Sean a sad smile. Sean flicked at the tissue that poked it's head out from the plastic opening, watching it pop back up every time he hit it with his forefinger. He and his mother both stared at the blank TV screen for a few seconds, and then Sean asked the question that had been eating him up ever since he learned his mother's wrists began hurting.

     "How much will surgery cost?"

     Mary's expression made Sean's upper intestines suddenly drop into the abyss that was his stomach.

     "How much?" Sean whispered slowly, looking back to the entrance to the dining room. There was no sight of Emily, which was good. For now, it would be a good idea to keep this from her.

     For now.

     Mary sighed another shuddering breath and looked at Sean with two red rimmed eyes.

     "It's not good." She said, shaking her head disconsolately. "With insurance, the doctor estimated it from ten to twelve thousand dollars for both hands for one surgery." Sean's mother titled her head, staring blankly at the floor. "Or they could do just one hand for four thousand seven hundred." Mary shook her head and grinned without mirth, glancing down at her right hand. "Personally, I'd have surgery done on my favorite hand."

     Sean wrinkled his brow, putting his hands to his head.

     "You should just do both hands, mom." considered Sean. "Why just do one?"

     Sean looked up to his mom. He saw the worry lines crowding themselves up on his mother's brows. Her face was pale, and it looked like she hadn't had a decent rest in days.

     "Because," Sean's mother began, her voice trembling. "We only have so much money left from the contingency fund your dad set up. I'm not sure we can handle another surprise pest infestation or the car breaking down again."

     "What?" Sean said loudly, then licked his lips nervously. There was the feeling. That stupid, annoying feeling that had been pestering him. Anxiety. It always seemed to drown everything in its path. "What? How is that possible? I thought we had enough to last until I got a job next summer!"

     Mary nodded erratically, and looked at her son.

     "The reserves are running out faster than I had expected with these ...these unexpected crises." Mary put her hands in her lap to keep them from moving.
"The attorney thinks-estimates-that there's barely enough money to keep us afloat for the next year." Mary paused, feeling her next words as it slipped out quietly through her lips. "And he says that we should expect bankruptcy by June."

     Sean sighed, rubbing his closed eyelids. June. Just two months before his birthday. The dryness in his eyes didn't help settle his jumbled internal organs that felt like they were doing a tap dance inside his stomach walls. He chewed his dry lips.

     "What if ...what if I start searching for a job. Tomorrow." Sean concluded, putting both of his hands together, making a small clapping noise. Mary started to shake her head, but Sean continued confidently.

     "Mom. You know this is the right thing to do. There's no other choice. I have to go look for a job."

     "But your education..."

     "Don't worry, I'll be fine. I'll make sure it won't hurt my GPA." Sean said, putting on a smile. His mother didn't notice. Instead she gently smoothed her hand over again and again by her opposite fingers.

     "You're sure you'll be fine?" Sean's mother questioned with a small voice. "Promise me that you'll manage your time wisely."

     Sean nodded, hugging his mother in a smothering embrace.

    "Of course I will." Sean said, and then added, more to himself than to his mom. "Anything for you guys..."