THE OLDER MAN'S favorite tunes came out of the stereo in the living room. His favorite song, Smokestack Lighnin', played throughout the space as he was fixing the coffee table.
"The screwdriver." The man, Stanley, told the eight-year-old.
He got no response as he knelt beside the table and had his hand out to the side. Stanley looked to his right and saw the boy focused on the television nearby.
"Tony."
The boy finally turned to his father. Stanley repeated.
"The screwdriver."
Tony picked it up and handed it to him. Stanley nodded and continued to fix the table, and Tony was willing to see how he did. The older man wanted to show the boy how to be a handyman and complete tasks a man should know how to do.
"It doesn't take much to tighten these." He told the boy. "The right technique and you can pop these in or out in seconds."
Tony watched as the man put in the screws with precision. He was in awe.
"Wow. How did you do that?"
"Something I had to learn in the army, kiddo. Glad I'm able to use those skills here."
"I want those skills." Tony replied.
Stanley chuckled and rubbed the top of his head.
"You're a special boy, Tony. Soon enough you'll find out what you're good at and use that to help people."
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The boy smiled. Moments later, there was a call out from the dining room. The lady, Juliette, came out and waved them down.
"Food's ready." She said in her French accent.
"We're coming, Julie." Stanley replied with a smile and patted the boy's back.
They both left the living room and went into the dining room. There, another boy, about six years old, was already sitting and had his plate in front of him. Before Stanley sat down, he kissed his wife.
"Looks good."
"Thank you."
"I'm not talking about the food."
Julie chuckled and playfully slapped his shoulder. Stanley also laughed.
"Been waiting to use that one." He added.
Tony sat down and so did Julie and Stanley. Before they could dine, the Masters family always had to say Grace.
